Snobbery, Ceilings, and the Art of Scavenging
by MWard
Summary: When life gives you lemons, you should probably wonder where the hell they came from since no one in New England has seen any citrus in the past five years. At least, that would be Lizzie Bennet's first instinct. But then again, her instincts aren't always perfect, as evidenced by the case of one William Darcy. A light, modernish, distopian take on the classic story. *updated*
1. Chapter One

It's a truth universally acknowledged that if a man the size of water buffalo is preparing for the end of the world, he's probably stockpiled snacks somewhere. Well, perhaps it's not universally acknowledged, but I assumed that a man like Mr. Elliot wouldn't have hesitated to hide some Twinkies or Dorritos somewhere. After half a day of tearing apart the walls in the little gas station on Bronte and Main that he had owned, I eventually found three packages of Hostess cupcakes hiding in a hole punched through the drywall. Despite being almost three years past expiration, their orange-plastic frosting looked remarkably well preserved, and I said a silent thank you to my portly benefactor of junk food. Wherever he was. If he still was.

As I adjusted my bulky pack on my shoulder, I contemplated how reassuring the heavy weight of it felt. It had been a very good haul, the majority of which was coiled up into extra tight rolls- twenty feet of musty smelling fiberglass insulation. Though it had badly scratched up my hands as I tore sheets of it out of the wall, it was a small price to pay for extra warmth in the winter. Or extra income. I used it as padding for the cupcakes and my two other outstanding acquisitions: a torn up gossip magazine, and a half empty travel sized bottle of shampoo.

There was still a fair amount of insulation left in the walls, which I knew would prove to be extremely valuable at the Meryton marketplace if my family couldn't use it. I'd have to come back to collect the rest soon, perhaps with my older sister Jane. Though she'd be happy for the insulation, she'd be more thrilled to be able to wash her pretty blonde hair with something other than the animal fat soaps we'd been forced to use since our small supply of commercially manufactured personal hygiene products ran out. Not that anyone had complained. It's far better to have soap made by a farmer than nothing at all. Especially in a house of six people.

You know how everyone thinks that they have enough smarts and determination that they can get through anything life throws at them? Well ask them again after the grocery stores run out of food, their electric has been off for a month, and people are getting into fist fights over toilet paper and the tiny remaining amounts of gasoline for their generators. Even with two thirds of the population dead, stores still only had enough food for three weeks. And that was only if someone hadn't stolen it all first. We were lucky it was spring and there was enough time to plant and harvest crops and vegetables.

Stripping the building materials out of the gas station had been one of my better ideas since there weren't many stores left nearby that hadn't been completely ransacked over the past couple of years. The station had certainly seen some activity, considering that the shelves were all but bare, and the fuel was long gone. When everything was getting really crazy, I saw three guys haul out the frozen drink machine with their bare hands. They must have been really pissed when the electric finally went out.

There was still a winter chill in the damp New England air, and thin sheets of ice blanketed the roads despite it being mid March. As I walked up the long driveway to my family's house, I could see smoke gently wafting from the brick chimney of our white raised ranch. It was starting to look a bit shabby on the outside, but it still served its purpose of keeping us warm and dry no matter what the weather was. Even the people living in the center of Meryton couldn't all say that. I winced as I heard my two youngest sisters shrieking at each other before I even reached the house and debated turning around and walking for a little longer. As tempting as it was, the sharp cold gnawing at my fingers was enough persuasion for me to endure the auditory torture and get inside the house before I froze to death.

Dropping my bag off at the door, I took off my dirty boots and coat, smoothing several disobedient dark curls of hair out of my face. I entered our small but cheery dining room and held my hands over the blazing fire in the fireplace, letting the normal temperature creep back into them. Breakfast was already laid out- a saucepan of oatmeal smattered with bits of dried apple to add some flavor to an otherwise bland meal. My father was sitting at the head of the table, reading a letter and blatantly ignoring the conversation my mother was trying to have with him. I suppressed a smile and kissed the top of his head before sitting down at the butcher block table.

"Lizzie! Back so soon? I thought you were headed to the market?" my father asked without looking up. My dad's pretty great, but sometimes it feels like he's on autopilot. I don't think he'd know what to do with himself if he didn't have letters to read over breakfast.

"I will be tomorrow. I got a really good-" I began.

"Frank! Don't change the subject! This is a wonderful opportunity for our girls, you must go and introduce yourself!" My mother smacked the top of the table with her hand for emphasis.

And let me introduce my mother, Mrs. Allison Bennet. Former middle school art teacher and hypochondriac. She'd give any drama queen a run for their money. Or whatever they're using for currency nowadays.

I raised an eyebrow. "What have I missed?"

My younger sisters Lydia and Kitty giggled, and Lydia conspiratorially whispered, "Mom heard from Mrs. Long that there's some guy named Charles Bingley moving into that giant house with all the land a few miles from here. Apparently he's got an enormous amount of corn and wheat that he wants to plant in the spring. He's bringing a bunch of people to help farm and the best part... he's single!"

I groaned and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. This should be good. If the definition of good was: _adjective, meaning frustrating or irritating_.

"How on earth does this affect the girls Allison?" my father asked, still fixated on his letter. Watching his eyes for a moment, I realized that they weren't even moving on the page, the big faker. I made a mental note to find myself an enthusiastic penpal and get myself some reading material for family meal times.

"Don't be ridiculous. He's well off, he's single, so MAYBE he'll end up marrying one of them."

I smirked and tilted my head lecherously towards Lydia. "Because it's the 1800's all over again, so if he's wealthy and single, he must be looking for a wife."

Kitty and Lydia snickered, and even Jane bit back a smile under the curve of her fingers. Only my mother didn't find it particularly amusing.

Mom let out a long dramatic sigh. "Lizzie, don't be so difficult. You know that the area around our house is getting worse. We won't be able to live here forever, and we need to make sure that ALL of us are provided for. What would we do if something happened to your father?"

"I dunno, maybe find a job?" I couldn't resist.

"Are you planning my demise already?" My father looked up briefly to see my mother glaring at him, and he quickly went back to reading.

"Lizzie! You know I can't work, with my aches and pains, and the tendinitis in my elbow! And your younger sisters are too young to be working in the fields or doing salvage work like you. I won't have them galavanting around the towns with you and Jane, anything could happen!"

"You're right. They might happen to get some work ethic… exercise… fresh air… valuable real world experience…" I said, counting off each benefit with my fingers, pausing when my mother started gripping her napkin like a steering wheel. "Do you want me to go on?"

"It doesn't matter, Lizzie. Even if we all had work, you know as well as I that it might not be enough to support us in the future. We have to join ourselves with a well supplied and well connected family. It's the only way we can ensure our long term survival!"

"Wow, Mom, that sounds very similar to the speech you made when the Davis boys moved here."

"I didn't know that they were so young! And besides, they've grown a lot since they moved here," my mother sniffed, avoiding eye contact with me.

I smiled blithely, "Yeah, I think the oldest hit puberty a few months ago."

"Is this really an appropriate topic of conversation at meal time?" Jane asked, scraping at the last of her oatmeal.

"Has any topic ever been off limits at this table?" I countered.

As usual, my mother was determined to have her say. "Look, you may not like it, but it's the way it is now. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering where our next meal will come from or whether a snowstorm will do us in. Regardless of how you feel about it, it won't cost us anything to go introduce ourselves to this Charlie fellow."

Begrudgingly, I knew my she was right. A few years ago, I would have thought that all of my sisters and I would be able marry for love. Now I knew that at least one of us would have to marry someone who could keep our family fed and sheltered. We were lucky to have owned our house when everything collapsed; eventually the hundreds of unoccupied houses in town reverted ownership to the town government and now required a rent to live there. However, since we lived outside of the fortified area of Meryton, it made us easy pickings for robbers and scavengers. And it was getting worse every year.

"Mom, I know, believe me. But you don't have to make it sound like we're a pack of wolves about to take down a meal," I said, as nicely as I could manage. In all seriousness, we'd had enough conversations like this one to make my ears bleed. I'd had my fill of it years ago.

"I hardly think this is worth discussing. If you and the girls want to go and introduce yourselves, go right ahead, I don't see what you need me for," my father chimed in, finally putting his letter down.

"Moral support?" my mother pleaded. He rolled his eyes, and my mother crossed her arms and sank back in her chair like a sullen child. "Frank! It will look like we're throwing the girls at him if we all go!"

"Aren't you?" Dad winked at me.

"No! We just need to meet him before all the other girls in town worm their way in! Jane will be the one to catch him, won't you Janey?"

My oldest sister looked mildly disgusted, and my father patted her hand, "It's okay Jane. Rest assured that if you aren't the bait Bingley wants, your mother won't waste any time sticking your younger sisters on the hook for him."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better, Dad?" Jane asked, looking longingly at the door. I've been waiting for the day when she finally runs. I'll be right behind her.

"I'm only reminding you that there is no 'I' in 'TEAM'. This will have to be a group effort if we're to win the heart of Mr. Bingley. I do hope that one of you girls can secure him, because I'm not sure your mother or I will be his cup of tea."

The table cleared rather quickly after that.

At least my parents are getting along better, since they've gone from flat out yelling at each other to jokes and sarcasm as means of showing their discontentment. They had been on the verge of divorce five years ago, and it took half my family getting sick for them to put aside their differences and suck it up. To be fair, it was more my dad that had to suck it up because my mother was prostrate on the bed with chills, a fever, and coughing fits that could put a consumption patient to shame. My mother and Kitty got better within a few weeks. My sister Mary didn't.

I grabbed Jane's hand as she dumped her dirty bowl into our sink, "Don't listen to a word they say Jane. It's not your responsibility to seduce some guy just because mom wants you too."

"I know! I would never do that." She smiled as she poured a bucket of hot water over the dirty dishes in the sink. "I was just thinking that it would be nice to meet a new guy though. It's been a while."

"Amen to that! Get it? A MEN?" Lydia giggled at her own joke, a not uncommon occurrence. It's a shame they stopped making popsicles. She would've had so much material if she saved all the sticks from the kid's flavors.

"Well, if Jane can't "catch" Bingley with her sweetness and beauty, at least you've got a shot with your tremendous wit," I gave her a gentle shove out of the kitchen, "though don't get too excited because I don't believe anyone has ever not been interested in Jane. Oh, and because you're sixteen and have no business dating anyone old enough to know that Obama was a president and not a snack food."

She blushed, remembering the history lesson I gave her a week ago. It wasn't her fault that the schools had been shut down, but I'd be damned if I was going to let my younger sisters live in ignorance. "So you're saying I can only date people my own age? What a bunch of bull. Mom will let me date who I want."

"We'll see about that," I murmured as I watched her storm off. I sighed. If Charles Bingley coming to town had already caused this much strife before he'd even arrived, how bad would it get once he actually got here?

Turns out, really really bad...


	2. Chapter Two

Anyone who knows anything about me knows that in no particular order, there are three things in life I hold most dear to my heart:

1.) Being outside.

2.) My sister Jane.

3.) Books

So when the world falls to shit and you're left trying to just survive each day without killing someone else or yourself, you need a plan to keep you both alive and sane. The best way is to use the things you love as the means to an end.

After my family's resources began getting scarce, it fell to me to be locate supplies to get us by. I was happy walking long distances outside, I knew how to use an actual paper map without needing to consult a GPS, and had enough common sense to mostly stay out of trouble.

Armed with said paper maps, a compass, an army knife, and enough food and water to get by for a day or two, I began "salvaging". Not everything I found in abandoned clinics, convenience stores, and thrift shops were of value to me or my family, but they would usually be valuable to someone.

Anything I picked up that our family didn't need was brought to the Meryton marketplace. It was like those giant flea markets we used to go to, only instead of just selling antiques and crafts, there was food, candles, clothing, household items- almost anything of necessity. And since paper money is pointless, we only trade goods.

I did most of the acquisition part our job, and Jane did most of the bartering of it. You see, Jane is basically the real life version of a fairy princess. Though I haven't seen birds and deer gather around her (yet), and no one has spontaneously burst into song when they walk by her (excepting myself, of course), I am fairly convinced that her royal fairytale parents will come to collect her at some point.

But I digress. Everyone who knows her, loves her, and she loves just about everyone. So when she stands there, smiling and sweetly asking a seller to trade a carton of mouse eaten cigarettes for two giant sacks of grain, pretty much no one has the ability to tell her no. Works like a charm. A magical secret fairy charm...

And as for my books, there was a seller that got a run on a library about a year ago. His books aren't a bargain, but if we have anything left over I usually trade towards a novel. The book I had my eye on? A very well read copy of _Gone With the Wind_. I'd been quietly drooling over it for months. And since the seller had bit of a sweet tooth, I was fairly certain the cupcakes I found would be more than enough to tempt him to trade it.

Jane and I had ventured back to the gas station yesterday after breakfast, and returned to the house with the remainder of the usable insulation, three dozen nails we'd pulled from the wall, several metal shelves that could potentially be melted down and repurposed, and the very lucky find of an unused plastic gas canister that could be used to hold water. After separating out the items we were keeping, we tied the rest into bundles that we could carry to Meryton.

"Jane, Lizzie? If you're headed over to the market, could you pick up some pens and paper if you can find them?" my father asked as my sister and I put on our coats by the door.

"Yeah, Dad, we'll see what we can do." Jane made a face as she shoved her foot inside her boot, immediately yanking it back out. She reached in and pulled out twig, narrowing her eyes at me as if I had put it there.

"It was probably a gnome," I speculated. "They do that. All mischievous with the twigs and things."

"Oh, and if you see Mr. Bingley, give him my regards."

"Frank! Will you stop? Since you refuse to talk to him, what's the point? I'm sick of hearing about him!" my mother cried out.

"That's really too bad, I wish you'd told me before I ran into him yesterday. He seemed like a nice guy, and said he looked forward to meeting you all. I suppose the next time I see him I'll tell him I was mistaken, that I don't actually have any children, just a small herd of goats that I occasionally confuse for family."

"Oooh! You visited him? Oh, I knew you'd come around! Oh girls, you have the best father…"

And just like that, Jane and I gained three extra ladies in our excursion to the market, which I can assure you is a very rare occurrence. Occasionally my sisters go to try and buy useless things like old makeup and fancy shoes, and to flirt with every boy within a six foot radius. My mother purely goes to gossip with the other mothers. It's embarrassing. And this time she's clearly going to get all the dirt on poor Charlie Bingley. "Poor" being a figure of speech of course.

The market is inside the old gymnasium of Meryton high school. It's remarkably clean and well organized for having gone five years or so with tons of foot traffic and very little maintenance. There's about fifty identical plastic folding tables in all, which probably used to be for students to eat their lunches on. We get meat from the butcher, which thankfully is frozen instead of salted because it's so cold out this time of year. Among our other favorite vendors is a lady who knits socks, gloves, and sweaters, an excellent baker, an older couple who sells hand crafted carpentry tools… you can get almost anything you need in Meryton.

I was surprised how many people were in attendance; it was actually warm inside due to the throngs of market goers. While my mom and sisters went off in search of… oh, who cares? Jane and I went off in search of Mrs. Lucas, the mother of one of my best friends and a former computer technician. It was a good bet that she'd have some old reams of computer paper she'd be willing to part with for something of ours. She did, and we chatted cordially for a few minutes before Jane started nudging my shoulder.

I looked up to see my mother standing next to a very attractive young man and frenetically beckoning my sister and I to join her. I shut my eyes and mentally willed her to stop. But she didn't stop, and I was very soon being gently led by Jane over to who I could only assume was Charles Bingley. My mother introduced both of us, and I liked him immediately. He was funny and charming, and smiling most intently at Jane.

"Mr. Bingley, are you planning on staying here for a while?" my mother asked, batting her eyes at him like a deranged llama.

"Please, call me Charlie. And, yes. That is, I hope to be," he said, with a bashful glance at my sister, "My two sisters, Louisa and Caroline, are here with me. And my old friend from college, Will Darcy, will be staying with us for a while too," he said, pointing to a group of people loitering around a table of farming parts.

To say that they all stood out like sore thumbs would be an understatement. Both of Charlie's sisters were wearing matching expressions of disgust, designer skirts and blouses, and painful looking high heeled shoes. It amazed me that they were able to walk in them through the mud and dust of the Meryton roads. And I kid you not, one of them even had lipstick on.

Will Darcy seemed about as thrilled to be standing in a high school gymnasium marketplace as Charlie's sisters. You would've thought that someone had just informed him that in order to leave, he was going to have to stuff horse manure down his starched shirt. I have to admit though, he was extremely handsome with a clever looking mouth, deep brown eyes, and a mop of artfully disheveled dark hair. Exactly my type.

I watched with amusement as he touched a pair of gardening shears, looked at his fingers with a scowl, and wiped his hand on his mostly immaculate pants. Err, maybe not so much my type, since I tend to like guys that are able to sport at least one more facial expression beyond "irritated". He glanced up and briefly caught my eye before unenthusiastically fiddling with a button on the cuff of his shirt.

After a few minutes of small talk, my mother caught on that Charlie was very interested in Jane, and Jane seemed very interested in him. She made some lame excuse about needing me to help her buy potatoes and practically dragged me away to give Jane and Charlie "time to get to know each other".

As she pulled me along at an alarmingly quick pace, she pointed over to Charlie's companions, bluntly (and loudly) asserting everything she'd managed to glean from the dubious fact-checking conversations she'd had from Meryton's finest gossips. "Will Darcy is very attractive, isn't he Lizzie? And Mrs. Long said that he's ten times as well off as Charlie is. He's a doctor and his family owns an entire gated community- Pem… something. Forty-five houses and a giant containment fence, guards, enough land for growing…" I wandered away from her as she started regurgitating Will Darcy's acreage size to Mrs. King.

As I waited for Jane to finish her very animated conversation with Charlie, I began perusing through the largish collection of books on the table of my favorite seller. It was so easy to get lost in them. There were many classics, as well as a few I knew nothing about, and I busied myself with reading the blurbs on the back of some of the paperbacks. Almost half an hour had passed when I realized that Jane was no longer talking to Charlie, that he was now standing at the other end of the table talking with Will Darcy. Overhearing Charlie mention Jane's name, curiosity got the better of me and I pretended to read while listening to the quiet conversation the two men were having.

"Come on, Darcy, can you at least pretend like you're enjoying yourself and maybe introduce yourself to some of these nice people?"

_Thank you! Somebody needed to say it. One point for Charlie._

"I can't believe that I am actually standing in what I can only describe as a backcountry flea market. I know it's gotten bad in some areas, but this is ridiculous. I think it's been months since some of these people have bothered to bathe," Will said with some sort of posh English accent. Unfortunately it only made him seem more out of place than he already looked.

Regardless, the scents wafting from the crowd were less than stellar, so I was willing to give him that. _One point for Doctor Will._

"Oh, come on! I've never seen so many lovely, welcoming people in all my life!"

_Two points Charlie, one for Will._

"You're only saying that because you've been chatting up the only pretty girl in the room, besides your sisters," Will said as he looked over at Jane, who was talking with Mrs. Lucas again.

_Still two points for Charlie, docking Will's one point on the basis of general douchery._

"She is beautiful, isn't she? And so sweet. I really like her Will. Oh, and she was telling me that her sister Lizzie is something of salvager, and knows the roads and woods better than anyone. You should think about hiring her to hunt down some of the medical supplies you're running low on. And she's easy on the eyes too."

_Twenty points Charlie, Will zero._

Will rolled his eyes, "Jane's sister?"

I looked intently at the back of a Charles Dicken's novel, avoiding any glances from either of the men standing nearby.

"Have you gone completely blind, Charlie? Besides, I certainly don't need some scrappy girl to show me around this hell hole. Finish up your business, the sooner we can leave, the happier I'll be," Will scoffed.

_And Charlie wins with twenty points while Will loses in an earth shattering defeat of negative ten thousand points. In shame, he turns tail and runs back to his Pem-Whatever houses, never to be seen or heard from again. With any luck._

Though I was obviously offended by Will Darcy's horrible comment, he was so ridiculously rude that I couldn't help finding _some_ humor in it. Seeing my friend Charlotte Lucas walk in, I laid the book down and walked directly past Will and Charlie with an amused smile on my face, and related what had just transpired to her. I even went so far as to imitate Will's accent and disapproving scowl. As we giggled quietly, I glanced over in Will's direction to find him staring quizzically at me. He then picked up a few books, handed the seller something that looked like a necklace, and stalked out.

Charlotte tilted her head to one side, watching as he walked away. "You have to admit though… that is one nice derrière…"

"Yeah, it is. And infinitely nicer to look at than his snobby face. Maybe they should switch locations. You know, surgically. 'Cause he clearly prefers talking like an asshole."

Charlotte whistled through her teeth, "Ouch. Has anyone told you recently that you're kinda mean when you're irritated?"

"You're so complimentary, Charlotte."

"Just telling it like it is, Liz."

I patted her on the shoulder. "It's the precise reason why we're friends. Seriously though, tell me he doesn't deserved to be mocked…"

"He does, but it seemed a little harsh, even for you. That's the fastest I've ever seen anyone get under your skin."

"He must be special," I said sarcastically. "That was the fastest anyone has ever dismissed my ability to do my job. I hope he runs out of band-aids. By tomorrow."

"Why? So you can prove yourself by finding some and bartering with him?"

"Pwffft. No! I'd use them to decorate my boots. And I'd wear them as I walked by the big fancy house he's living in. Just to piss him off."

"Lizzie!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said, grinning at Charlotte, "I wouldn't wear my nice boots to walk by Netherfield. Seems more like a dirty bare-feet occasion."

Charlotte laughed aloud and pushed me in the direction of the book table, "Go get your book you jerk. I wanna go back to your house and get the Bingley scoop from Jane."

"The Bingley scoop? Is that like Rocky Road covered in caramel sauce?"

"I hate that you always bring up things we'll never put in our mouths again. It's not a dessert, Lizzie, it's gossip."

"But it's delicious gossip…" I pointed out.

"Will you go? Before I need a walking stick and padded shoes to get out of here?"

"Okay, fine. And to satisfy your current dessert craving, if I can get the seller to go for just two packages of cupcakes, we'll feast on package number three," I said, heading away from her.

I laughed as she silently pantomimed singing the lyrics to "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You", complete with a soulful stare and hands clutching at her heart. Still smiling, I reached the table, looking for the pale yellow cover of the soon-to-be-mine book. It wasn't where I left it. I lifted books up, stacked them into piles, even looked under the damned table, but it wasn't there. And then realization dawned on me, and the proverbial nail in the coffin of my hatred for Mr. William Darcy occurred.

That son of a bitch had bought the only copy of _Gone With the Wind_.


	3. Chapter Three

Flopped down on my bed next to Charlotte and biting into an overly sweet and sticky orange cupcake, I was listening to Jane say for the third time in less than an hour how much she liked Charlie.

"He's just perfect Lizzie… he's nice, charming, intelligent…"

"… and kinda hot. Let's not forget that," Charlotte cut in, words muffled by a mouth full of frosting.

"Yes, every man should try to be 'a hottie' if he can," I said with mock seriousness to Charlotte. "I think it's on a list entitled _Suggestions for Men_, right between _walk upright_ and _grow a beard_."

Grinning, she hit me with a pillow. "You are out of your mind today, Lizzie. You'd better keep that snark in check or it's going to give you organ failure or something."

I giggled as I snatched the pillow from Charlotte's embrace and tossed it to the floor where it couldn't be used for assault purposes. "He did seem to be really into you, Jane. I have a sneaking suspicion that you'll be seeing quite a lot of him in the very near future," I said, grabbing my second pillow before Charlotte could get her hands on it, "Just be sure to avoid his sisters and his odious friend, and I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time."

"I thought his sisters were actually quite nice. I talked with them for a few minutes. They're going to help Charlie run the house and and farm."

I was privately entertained by a brief vision of the two sisters, dressed to the nines and guiding a horse-pulled plow. Somehow I doubted they would be of much assistance to Charlie. "Jane, you always think people are better than they really are! They looked like the Stepford Wives, which I suppose I should give them credit for, given the general lack of resources. I'm sure they're nice when they feel like being nice… but they just seem a bit full of themselves. Who wears shoes like that to the market?"

"And speaking of people who are full of themselves, I'll have you know that everyone at the market was talking about how much of a snob Will Darcy seemed. And they didn't even know what he had said about you, Lizzie! What if he does end up asking you to work for him? You wouldn't, would you?" asked Charlotte.

"Charlotte, I'd rather stab my eyes out with tiny kittens than work for Will," I replied smugly.

"You'd think the sugar would tone down the level of violence," Jane said, shaking her head at exasperatedly at Charlotte, "but I think it's making it worse."

"It's been said that making gentle humming noises in Lizzie's ear tends to help," Charlotte mused, leaning close to me to test out her theory.

I scooted away from her and rolled my eyes, "Really? You guys should know by now that violence is the only thing that tones down my level of violence. So if one of you wants to say, trip Will, or drop something on his head, the raging fury within me will be sated. For a while."

"Oh, come on Lizzie, if you were in as good of a situation as Will was, you'd have the right to be a bit conceited," Jane said smiling and licking the remnants of orange frosting off her fingertips, "though it was very wrong of him to say what he did."

"I would not be a snob! And honestly, I wouldn't care that he _is_ a snob if he hadn't insulted my appearance and my work ethic," I glowered, "And then buy the book I've been lusting over for weeks. God I miss internet shopping."

My mother called up for Jane to help her cook dinner, and she hopped off the bed leaving Charlotte and I alone. I picked up a pair of my jeans that had ripped at the knee and started pinning a square of canvas behind it.

"You know, Jane should really get on that whole Bingley thing," Charlotte said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean, 'get on that whole Bingley thing'? You'd better not mean that literally."

"You know, make a serious effort. If he likes her, she needs to move quickly and be as encouraging and affectionate as she can. We both know that she's shy, but if she takes too long he might move on to someone else."

I put down my sewing. "So you _practically_ mean it literally. Char, she just met him. Like two hours ago."

"Doesn't matter. He could take care of her and provide for your whole family."

"Eww, of course it matters. What if she ends up not liking him? What if he's actually a masochist with a fetish for dirty socks and murdering puppies?"

"Lizzie, I mean it! It doesn't matter if she waits a week or a year to find out if she likes him. Being happy in a marriage is a matter of chance, and he's probably the best one she'll get."

"I know you've never been a hopeless romantic, but that's the bleakest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth. It's kind of a crucial step to know if you like the person before you end up walking down the aisle with them!" I insisted, looking Charlotte squarely in the eye.

Charlotte was quiet for a minute. "Not everyone can afford to think like you do. You're self-sufficient and independent, and could probably live on your own if you wanted to. But not everyone has that option."

I had the distinct impression she wasn't talking about Jane anymore. "You know if you ever need anything, you can come to me right?" I asked.

Charlotte shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Yeah, of course," she said with a half smile, "I just need to stop worrying so much. I think your mom is rubbing off on me."

"She does that. It's gross. Make sure you wash, 'cause she'll leave a stain on your soul."

"Jeez, Lizzie," Charlotte giggled hysterically, "I can't even listen to you anymore. You're out of control."

Charlotte left just before dinner, and my entire family came together downstairs for a meal of bread and venison stew. As we were scraping the last bits of meat and potatoes from our bowls, my father cleared his throat and announced that he had a bit of strange news he wanted to pass on to us. He had received a letter a few weeks ago from a relative who was requesting to come and stay with us for a while.

"He's my cousin, who I've never met. But since his entire family passed away a few years ago when the viruses hit, he wants to meet his nearest living relations," my father explained.

To paraphrase Mr. Collin's letter, he informed us that after working for many years as an interior decorator, he had an "awakening" (a long and dubious story involving vibrating candles and a squirrel that I don't care to repeat) and knew that he had been chosen by "mother earth herself" to become a new age spiritual advisor. Somehow he had become attached to a very wealthy woman named Catherine DeBourgh, who, being very spiritual herself, had helped to set him up with his own group of followers. He was now making a very respectable living and hoped to "get to know" us better, putting extra special emphasis on meeting the "beautiful Bennet girls".

Lydia wrinkled her nose, "Wait, so he's our second cousin? He kind of sounds like a perv."

"Not biologically. My aunt and uncle adopted him," my father replied.

My mother, who a few minutes ago was complaining about our "relative" coming to stay with us, suddenly had a change of heart and no objections at all to a visit from an eligible non-related bachelor. Some things never change.

"I still think he sounds like a perv," Lydia complained.

"So what are you going to tell him?" Kitty asked my father, while trying to restrain Lydia from poking her in the arm with a spoon.

"I've already invited him. He is family after all, and I don't see the harm in it," he responded with a twinkle in his eye. I could tell my father was up to something. Most likely he wanted to get my mother off his back for a few days, and having a house guest would certainly do the trick. Though he spent a considerable amount of time working for the Meryton town council, when he was home she usually followed him around like a second shadow, whining about everything.

"He'll be here next Thursday and stay for a week or two."

Lydia loudly dropped her spoon in her bowl and slumped back in her chair, "Can't wait."

* * *

A few days passed, and Jane and I began our thrice weekly trip to collect water, filling up our little red wagon with plastic jugs. When it was extremely cold, we were forced to get water and ice from a river that runs by our house and we'd spend hours boiling it so it was safe to drink. But since we'd had a warm day or two, the public spring at the edge of Meryton began running again, supplying most of our town with their drinking water. It was a bit of a trek, especially when you had to go there a few times a week, but as they say, beggars can't be choosers. And besides, non-beggars don't get special treatment. They had to fill up their water containers with the rest of us.

Therefore it wasn't too surprising when Jane and I ran into Charlie and Will walking up the road to the spring. Charlie, with his light curls and blue eyes was the complete opposite to Will's dark and brooding demeanor. It was as if Charlie was the sun and Will was the gloomy grey rain cloud determined to piss on everything. Jane and Charlie fell into easy conversation, and quickly introduced Will and I before turning back to their own discussions. Trailing behind them, the awkward silence between Will and I was palpable. As much as I disliked him, for Jane and Charlie's sake, I decided to at least attempt to ease the tension with some conversation.

"So you're a doctor?" I asked, pushing myself to sound more friendly than I felt.

"Was. Modern Neurosurgery is a bit difficult without electricity or basic surgical tools," he replied, words soft and clipped.

"What, you didn't just stick your hands in there and go to town?" Mr. Unemployed didn't seem to think it was funny, so I tried the approach I use with tedious people. "I suppose it would be difficult without any resources, but I'd imagine you have lots of other useful skills in the medical field."

He shrugged noncommittally.

"Like CPR or stitching people up..." I trailed off. _Boring them to sleep, thus eliminating the need for anesthesia?_

Dead silence.

_Okay, let's this try again._

"Heard you guys were renting the giant house on Netherfield Road. Have you all settled in yet? Made friends with all your neighbors?" That last part was very, very doubtful, but I'm nosy.

"Yes, thank you."

More awkward silence.

And so I decided to ask the question that my brain had practically been salivating to ask since his over-ironed pants came walking in our direction. "And do you like it?"

"It's tolerable."

In all seriousness, a containment wall would be better company and conversation.

"You know, no one uses the word _tolerable_ like they used to, kudos for memorizing a dictionary. I'm glad you find it tolerable, though. Some people seem to think the whole town is nothing but a hell hole." I gave him my best smile.

It took him a minute, but he visibly paled as he recognized his own words. Not waiting for a

response, I hurried forward and linked arms with my sister, letting Will drag behind us. I could practically feel his eyes burning a hole into my back.

Talking with Jane and Charlie was infinitely more enjoyable. Charlie's self-deprecating sense of humor and amusing stories about growing up as the son of a investor just outside of Boston entertained Jane and I for the entirety of our walk. Apparently his father had invested in a canine goggle business called Doggles (because someone thought dogs needed eye protection for when they stuck their heads out of moving cars). The business became wildly popular, and helped him acquire enough money to send Charlie to Harvard for business school and to get his sisters started in their modeling careers.

"He always thought that there would be a massive solar flare or some great catastrophe that would end society as we knew it. We all joked about it, but without him, we would have been pretty screwed. He invested heavily in a seed bank a couple months after the first strain of viruses hit. He was so paranoid."

"Was?" I asked.

"Yeah. Neither of my parents made it through the second wave. Louisa's husband died too."

"I'm sorry."

Charlie waved his hand dismissively. "Don't be. It was a long time ago, and most people lost much more than we did. And because my dad made that last investment, the seed bank gave me access to their catalogues and I was able to locate enough seed and farmers to start up this new agriculture business. Meryton's giving us access to the Netherfield house and land in exchange for fifteen percent of our yield. Twenty percent gets divided up amongst the farmhands, the rest we get to keep."

We arrived at the springs just as he finished narrating a funny story about how his father had broken the news to his mother that the Doggles investment had paid off. We waited in line as other townspeople filled up their various receptacles and carted them back by hand or in wagons or wheelbarrows.

"Are you guys going to Jim Forester's monthly guardsmen meeting tomorrow night? It's a good way to get involved with the town's security, but everyone mostly goes to hang out afterwards. They always serve drinks to get people to come and it usually ends up turning into a neighborhood block party," Jane mentioned to Charlie and Will, who had sided up next to Charlie to listen to the conversation.

"I didn't know there was one. Yeah, it sounds like we should go." Charlie shuffled some dirt with his shoe, "So, you're bringing your boyfriend with you or something?"

Jane flushed, giving him a quick little glance from under her lashes. "Ha, no way. I haven't had one of those since the ninth grade." Charlie brightened as he looked up, surprised but clearly pleased.

"Oh man, Bobby Flemmings! I'd forgotten about him!" I laughed, turning to Charlie to explain. "Everything was going great until he decided to spend an entire week writing Jane the worst love poetry I've ever seen. What was that verse? 'Your beautiful eyes are like blueberry pies'? I think that might have been the line that killed the whole relationship."

"I always thought that poetry was considered to be the food of love," Will interjected. I'd actually forgotten he was standing there.

"Maybe if the two people involved have been together for a while. But that much blueberry pie is enough to put any new relationship into a diabetic coma," I said amusedly. Will looked skeptical.

Our turn at the springs came up, and Jane and I wheeled our wagon to it and began filling up the containers. The water was freezing and smelled a bit sulfuric, but not having to spend all day making it safe to drink was worth the cost. We filled up right to the top and secured the lids, making way for Charlie and Will.

As we began trudging back to our house, Charlie yelled out, "I'll see you tomorrow!", and Jane spent the entire way home lost in thought and alternating between blushing and smiling like someone had given her a pony for Christmas.


	4. Chapter Four

The Meryton guardsmen meeting was the basically the same as it was every month. It always began with Jim Forester making a really bad joke to lighten the mood, followed by lots of good natured groaning. He informed us that in the past two weeks, there had been three nighttime attempts to break over the fence by gangs of theives, all thwarted by the fast thinking and quick shooting of the guards. None of them ever shoot with the intent to kill, but I'm sure they've hit the occasional arm or leg. Serves the intruders right though. We're all in this mess together. Jim also told us that he wanted to hire ten extra guardsmen for the store rooms where they keep rent payments. A vote was called for, and passed with three fourths majority, and the meeting was adjourned.

I took a sip of cider and made a face. It was definitely laced with something strong; no wonder the townspeople showed up so eagerly every month. And no wonder why Kitty and Lydia kept refilling their glasses. I suppose it's one benefit of growing up with very lax government laws in place… no minimum drinking age. My mother wasn't paying any attention to either of my younger sisters, so when Kitty saw me watching her from across the room I took the opportunity to signal that I knew what they were doing, and they had better knock it off.

On the other side of the room, Jane's face lit up laughing at something Charlie whispered in her ear. Will Darcy was casually leaning against the wall behind them, looking as though he wished he could just melt in to it. He also kept looking at me. I squashed the urge to walk over to him and demand to know what his problem was, and instead turned my attention back to the conversation I was having with Jim and Charlotte.

"So you're telling me that you can't single handedly fend off a gang of half a dozen robbers anymore? Jim, you're losing your touch," I teased.

Jim chuckled. "Well, in my defense, they're getting more desperate than I've ever seen them." His expression turned more serious, "Times are getting harder for everyone, but if we let our main supply get overrun, we'll have nothing to pay the guardsmen and no way to keep our town safe. I'm surprised your family hasn't decided to move in to the fortified part of town yet."

"We can't afford to pay the rent in town. Maybe when dad's been on the council a bit longer he can work out a deal with them." I smiled, but truthfully the thought had kept me awake at night on more than one occasion.

Charlotte asked how Jim's wife was, and as he started responding I noticed that Kitty was filling her cup for at least the fourth time and Lydia was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, putting my hand on Charlotte's arm, "but I think I need to go have a word with my sisters."

She mouthed "good luck", and pointed to the open door of a stairwell where Lydia was giggling and sitting on the lap of a twenty-something Meryton guard with wandering hands. I was heading over bodily drag my sister home if necessary, when Charlotte's father called out and beckoned me over to him. With a warning glance at Lydia, I stopped next to Mr. Lucas who was deep in conversation with Will.

"-just the person to help you find one, I'm certain," he was saying. "Ah, Miss Elizabeth! I'm surprised you're not out tonight tearing apart some old store for it's copper wiring or something!"

"Well Mr. Lucas, I've found that it's usually easier to do that in the daytime when I can see what I'm doing…"

"Will, you must have Lizzie show you where to find the old pharmacies and doctor's offices. I'm sure they're pretty picked over, but there might be some around that aren't completely empty. There is no one with more sense or who knows the terrain better than our Lizzie." Mr. Lucas nudged Will with his elbow. "And it doesn't hurt that she's gorgeous, eh Darcy?"

Slightly mortified, I could feel the heat seeping into my cheeks. Will began to open his mouth, no doubt intending some insulting comment about my appearance or abilities, although I'd bet that he wouldn't have the backbone to say it to my face. Either way, I cut him off before he could speak. "Mr. Lucas, it's very kind of you to be looking out for me, but I can assure you I'm not seeking employment by coming over here. I was just about to pry my sister off that… gentleman… before I become an aunt. Excuse me."

As I walked closer to the stairwell, I could tell that Lydia was at least two cups beyond buzzed.

"Nono, no, I'm telling you, our car is_awesome. _Superfast. Weve got tons ofgas in the basement..." she giggled, wrapping her arms around her companion's neck.

I rolled my eyes at Lydia's ridiculous exaggerations. We had a car all right. There weren't very many parts left on the inside since we had pawned most of them off a few years ago, so unless someone had a gassed up tow truck it wasn't going anywhere "superfast". And there definitely wasn't any fuel in our basement. Though I decided not to expose her dishonesty in front of her new friend, I did decide that she had more than enough to drink, and I wasn't sorry to tell her it was time to leave.

If you're wondering how long it takes to half drag, half carry a drunk sixteen year old home, the answer is an hour longer than it should. Next time (though I yelled at her long enough that there better not be a next time) I might leave her there to sleep it off.

* * *

"Okay, how do I look?" Jane spun around once, and looked at me anxiously. She had let her hair dry in curlers overnight, and it hung in soft honey blonde waves down her shoulders. Combined with the soft blue cardigan and dark grey trousers, she looked like she had walked straight out of an old clothing catalogue .

"You look beautiful, as always," I told her, "though I'm not sure I see the point in all the effort if you're just having lunch with Charlie's sisters."

"Oh I know. But I want to make a good impression, and maybe he'll be back before I leave their house."

"If he knows you're there, I'm sure he'll make every effort to return quickly."

"I hope so Lizzie," she said with a smile.

My mother walked in to the room just as Jane was pulling her rubber boots on. "Oh, no Jane, you'll look like a cow herder. I'll get you a pair of Lydia's dress shoes, you need to look your best! Take those off!" she demanded.

"Mom! Netherfield is practically four miles from here, and the roads refroze last night," I pointed out, "You can't expect her to walk all the way there in a pair of poorly made shoes with no traction, and Lydia's feet are two sizes bigger than Jane's…"

"Don't be ridiculous Lizzie. It is extremely important that Jane looks fashionable and impresses the Bingleys. Now put these on," she said shoving a pair of black kitten heels into Jane's lap.

Jane looked at them apprehensively, but put them on without comment. I held my tongue, but I couldn't help but feel nervous as Jane gingerly stepped out on to our walkway and began heading towards the road. "See you tonight!" she said brightly, then disappeared from view.

I hate always being right. My instincts proved to be correct when one of the farmhands from Netherfield came banging on our door a mere two hours later, delivering a note from Jane. I unfolded it and read it aloud as the rest of my family gathered in our living room.

"Don't be worried, but as I was walking to Netherfield, I hit a patch of ice on the road and slipped-" I stopped reading to glare at my mother, "Fortunately, Charlie and Will were coming in the other direction and helped me walk the rest of the way to the house. I'll be fine, it's just a few cuts and scrapes and probably a fractured ankle, and I won't be able to walk on it for a few weeks. The Bingley's have been kind enough to let me stay here until I'm well enough to leave…" I stopped reading. "I hope you're happy Mom. What if no one was going by her? She could have been out there for hours in the cold before anyone went looking for her."

"Well Allison, If she limps for the rest of her life, at least you'll be reassured to know it was all to impress the Bingleys," my father quipped.

My mother took the letter from me, and scanned it over looking absolutely delighted.

"Did we not read the same letter?" I asked incredulously.

"It's exactly as I planned! Now she'll get to spend lots of time with Charlie and he'll fall head over heels in love with her!"

I made an exasperated sound and starting rummaging around our entryway closet for my coat and boots.

"Lizzie, what are you doing?" Kitty asked.

"There's no way I'm leaving Jane by herself in a house full of people we don't know, and I want to make sure she really is okay," I said as I shoved some extra clothes for Jane into my pack and headed out the door. If any of them had tried to stop me, they would have been sorely disappointed.

Walking in the cold brisk air helped to calm my frustration, though it did nothing to ease my worry for Jane. I practically jogged there and by the time I arrived, tendrils of my hair had escaped my messy updo and were sticking to my forehead. Combined with the glossy sheen of sweat that was now... well, everywhere... I'm sure I looked terrifying, but I really didn't care. I just wanted to see my sister.

The Netherfield house was a giant white monstrosity, with double hung oak doors in front. It's the kind of house that doesn't need a description other than "that huge white house" for townies to know which one you're talking about. Charlie answered when I knocked, and after taking my coat and boots, led me in to a livingroom with a large blazing fireplace. Both Bingley sisters were sitting demurely on a couch playing solitare, and Will was sprawled out on a matching loveseat reading an old medical journal. All three looked surprised to see me. Will sat up hurriedly, marking his place in the journal with his index finger.

"I'm so sorry to intrude… it's just, I don't think my sister would want to be alone… and… how is she?" I asked.

"Oh, she'll be fine. I'm sure she could have walked home, but Charlie wouldn't have it," one of the sisters shrugged and peered at me, "It's Eliza, right? You look like a disaster! Whatever possessed you to come running here so quickly?"

"I would think that you would care enough about _your_ sister that you would do the same in a situation like this, wouldn't you?" I asked her, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"Jane's not fine, _Caroline_, but I promise we will take excellent care of her, Lizzie. That's why I keep Darcy around," Charlie said with a grin at Will.

Ah yes, Will the neurosurgeon who may or may not have other skills needed in the medical field. I turned my attention to him. "You really think her ankle is fractured?"

He cleared his throat, " Well, yes… maybe. It difficult to tell without an x-ray, but given the location and immediacy of the pain, it's a safe bet. There doesn't seem to be any dislocation though, so it should heal cleanly."

I think Will Darcy just doubled the amount of words he's ever spoken to me.

"Can I see her?"

"Of course! She's just down the hall, I'll show you," Charlie continued walking through the living room, and through another set of doorways. As he shut the doors behind us, I could hear peals of high pitched laughter from within. Nice sisters indeed.

A Jane-sized body was bundled up under several blankets on a bed, one left foot wrapped in towels and ice and elevated on top of a pillow. I came around to the side of the bed and knelt down beside her, stroking her cheek. She sleepily looked up at me, smiled, and murmured something about dancing before dozing back off.

"We gave her a bit of brandy for the pain. It made her really tired though," Charlie murmured, looking at her wistfully.

"So I see… she's always been a bit of a lightweight when it comes to drinking. Runs in the family," I said, tucking the covers more tightly around her.

"Once she's more awake we'll start giving her willow bark tea, Darcy says it basically works like aspirin."

"Okay, that sounds good. Do you mind if I just sit with her for a while?"

"Of course. And Lizzie, if you want to stay with her until she's recovered, then please do. I think she'll be much happier with you here."

I let out a breath that I'd scarcely registered holding. "Thank you Charlie. I'll go grab some of my things from home… you won't even know we're here."

"Nonsense! You're our guests! If you need clothes, Caroline and Louisa have plenty to borrow from, and you can dine with us, sleep here, anything you need, just ask. And one of the farmers is heading into town this afternoon, so I'll have him stop by your house and let your family know you're staying here."

"Charlie, you're the best," I said with a relieved smile.

Jane slept for hours, only waking briefly when I added fresh ice to the towel around her swollen ankle. Charlie stuck his head in the room and invited me to dinner with the rest of them. As much as I wanted to curl up with my sister and avoid everyone, my stomach was rumbling in protest and I'd have to spend time with them eventually. I made sure Jane was comfortable and put a glass of water on the nightstand by her bed before making my way down the hall.

The Netherfield house boasted two dining rooms, and I found Will, Charlie, and his sisters sitting in the smaller of the two. When I say small, I only mean that it was smaller than the enormous banquet hall a few rooms down from it. It was still three times the size of our family's. I sat down in one of the two empty dining chairs and served myself a piece of what looked like chicken pot pie. A matching set of oil lamps illuminated the table, making the situation feel much more intimate than I was comfortable with.

"So Eliiiiiza," Caroline purred, "how is your sister doing?"

I decided to be nice. "Still about the same, thanks. Hopefully she'll be a little more awake in the morning."

"I hope so too. And again, Lizzie, if there's anything I can do just let me know," said Charlie.

I caught Caroline rolling her eyes at Louisa.

It suddenly occurred to me that if Jane's ankle didn't heal quickly and I was stuck here for more than a few days, someone would probably be leaving in a body bag.


	5. Chapter Five

"You have a library?"

"Yeah."

"Like an actual library. With actual books. Inside your house."

I had been lying on Jane's bed, torn between taking a nap and exploring the house when Charlie had walked in and invited me downstairs to see the room in question.

Charlie chuckled, "Well, yeah. There's magazines and board games and stuff too, but mostly books."

"You probably shouldn't have told me that. I might move in with you."

Charlie grinned and opened the door wide, gesturing me to follow him.

The library was beautiful, full of floor to ceiling windows and cherry stained wood panelling. Two wide bookcases lined each side of a giant brick fireplace at the opposite end of the room, and a muted oil painting of a schooner in an ocean storm took the place of honor above the mantle. Charlie said that it had been there when they moved in.

Any dreams I'd had of reading by myself in the library were quickly shot to hell when I entered and saw that it was already inhabited by all of the house's occupants. Caroline and Louisa were setting up a game on a round table in the middle of the room and Will had his head bent over a desk in the corner, illuminated by a camping lantern and writing intently.

"Do you want to play Cards Against Humanity with us Elizabeth? It's better with more people and Darcy is refusing to play," said Louisa, shuffling the white set of cards in her hand and dealing them into piles.

"Thanks, but your brother just let it slip that you have a book collection, and I couldn't pass up the chance to read."

Caroline yawned, "I'm not surprised Eliza hates games. I bet she reads so much that she doesn't enjoy doing anything else."

I met her gaze levelly, "As much as I'd love to say that I spend all my free time reading, I don't. And there are lots of things that I enjoy. But I haven't had access to so many books in a long time, and it seems silly not to take the opportunity."

"Yeah, we do have a decent amount of books. It's not nearly as good of a collection as Darcy has back at the Pemberley Estates though," Caroline said, gazing over at Will.

"My book collection had better be good. My family's been collecting them for generations," Will said contemptuously, as if someone doubted it.

Charlie sat down with his sisters and Louisa handed him a pile of white cards. I went off to the bookshelves, running my finger along the spines of the books on the middle shelves. There must have been three or four hundred books of various sizes and subjects. My hand lighted on a copy of _The Hobbit_, one of my favorites. I hadn't read it in years and it was short enough to get through in a day or so. Maybe I was being too optimistic about the length of my stay. Book in hand, I curled up on a soft microfiber couch near the fireplace so I could see the pages and tried to unsuccessfully tune everyone out.

"I'll go first!" Caroline cried, snatching the top card off the black deck. "_A romantic candlelit dinner would be incomplete without_…. blank," she paused. "Darcy, are you sure you don't want to play?"

"I am absolutely sure I don't want to play," Will said without looking up.

"Suit yourself," she sniffed, "okay, let's see your answers."

She picked up the first card. "_Cuddling_. Awww, that's cute. And the second card is…" she curled her lip, "_a salty surprise_. That's gross Charlie."

"How do you know it was me? We shuffled them!" Charlie asked indignantly.

"Louisa wouldn't have been that obscene. She wins this round," Caroline handed the black question card to Louisa.

"You do know this is an "obscene" party game, right?" Charlie muttered.

"Whatever Charlie. I'll play how I want to."

Charlie went next, reading, "_What ended my last relationship?_"

Will, who had seemingly not been paying attention, suddenly chuckled and said, "That's easy. A stick of deodorant."

All eyes turned to Charlie, who sheepishly admitted that he had worn the same deodorant as his ex-girlfriend's father, which had freaked her out enough to end the relationship after a few weeks. "But come on Will, it might be true that Jen was a little crazy, but she was a driven and very accomplished woman. She put herself through dental hygienist school, she cooked, and she was very organized."

Will looked up from his writing, "You use the word "accomplished" to describe your girlfriends far too often. I hardly know six women that actually deserve the word."

Caroline nodded in agreement, "Yes, if you're going to call a woman accomplished, she should have a college degree, and be able to sing, dance, draw, speak a foreign language or two, and have a certain "gee-no-say-quaw" about her." Given Caroline's butchered pronunciation of the french phrase, I doubted that she knew more than her native english. And even that might have been pushing it.

"Is that all?" I muttered amusedly, though loud enough that Caroline shot me a dirty look.

"And she should also be an extensive reader," Will added.

"You guys are hilarious," I snorted. When no one cracked a smile it occurred to me that they weren't joking. "You're serious? That laundry list you just concocted is your actual checklist to decide whether or not a woman deserves to be called accomplished? I'm surprised you know any."

"You don't think a woman is capable of having all of those qualities?" Will asked.

"I've never met one, and if I did, she'd probably be so terrifying I'd run screaming in the other direction. And besides, I've never met a man with all of those talents either, have any of you?"

A somewhat embarrassed silence ensued, and I continued, "Besides, if it doesn't keep food on your table or keep your family safe, I don't see the point of having one of them, let alone all of them."

No one attempted to disagree. I had sufficiently killed the conversation, and Charlie and his sisters went back to their game. Will hadn't returned to his letter, but was instead staring at me, brow slightly furrowed. It unnerved me, and I picked up my book and began reading where I had left off.

The card game continued for a handful of rounds until it eventually came back around to Caroline's turn. I didn't hear what the question was, but suddenly Caroline snapped, "God, Charlie, I am not reading that out loud! You're disgusting!" and then she refused to play. She decided instead to walk over and lean against the desk that Will was writing on.

"Who are you writing to?" she asked in a sing-song voice, craning her neck to read what he was writing.

"I'm writing to my sister," he responded, looking irritated that she was standing so close. Or maybe it was because she was talking. Couldn't blame him on that account.

"Oh, little Georgiana! How is she? She must be as tall as me now! Tell her I say hello!"

"I told her that in the last letter I sent. You can write her yourself, you know."

"Will, you're no fun," Caroline pouted.

For the first time since arriving at Netherfield, I actually agreed with Caroline.

* * *

Jane wasn't feeling particularly better the next day, but the swelling had gone down and she was well enough to take several cups of willow bark tea instead of copious amounts of alcohol. Charlie brought her breakfast and a couple of old magazines he thought she'd like, and I decided to vacate the room to give them some time alone. I could hear birds happily chirping outside, and I wanted more than anything to be out from within the confines of the house and away from it's inhabitants. When I stepped outside the back door I realized that it was the first warm day we'd had in months. I shrugged off my jacket, closed my eyes, and tipped my face towards the sun. A shrill voice dragged me out of me pleasant reverie.

"Eliza! I hardly recognize you without a book in front of your face!" Caroline pushed her heart-shaped sunglasses down to squint at me.

The Bingley sisters were sunning themselves on a pair of lawn chairs, and Will was reading on the porch. There was no escaping these people. _Okay… think Lizzie, think. Lots of distance._

"Do you think I could borrow a t-shirt and a pair of shorts? It's so nice out I'd like to go for a run," I asked, turning to Louisa.

"Oh, you can borrow them from me, and I'll go with you. I love going running," Caroline jumped out of her chair and headed back towards the house. Resigned, I followed her. As she walked past Will, she said snarkily, "I've heard that some people think exercise gives you a pretty glow and brightens your eyes." Will shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't make eye contact with her and settled down further into his chair. Unsure of which of us she was speaking to, I didn't comment and continued to follow her to her room.

She dug through a couple drawers and handed me a dingy grey shirt with the letters "MHS" on the front, and a tiny pair of gym shorts. The shorts were much shorter than anything I would have picked out, but compared with the rest of her collection, they were extremely modest. As she changed into a bright orange sports bra and a purple pair of mortifyingly tiny gym shorts, I amused myself by trying to figure out what the letters on her shirt stood for. I decided _Man-Hands Satan_ and _Murderous Hormonal Shark_ were the two top contenders.

While I stretched out my calf muscles on the back porch steps, I watched Caroline bend over to touch her toes two feet away from Will's face. She stayed in position a full thirty seconds longer than she needed to, and I watched him turn a slight shade of pink and stare very intently at his book. He looked up suddenly, directly at me and caught me smirking at the scene. I quickly looked away, but it was impossible to remove the hint of smile from my face. Caroline tried a few more very suggestive stretches, before deciding to forgo her seductive flirting and take a more direct approach.

"Darcy, you should come with us. It's so refreshing to run outside after we've been stuck inside all winter."

Will put his book down, and shook his head with a mischievous glint in his eye, "No way. There are only two reasons you'd be going for a run and I would be interfering with both of them."

"What are you talking about? Eliza, do you have any idea what he means?" Caroline whined.

"I don't, but I'm sure it's insulting so we should disappoint him by _not_ asking him."

"But I want to know! Darcy, tell us!"

Will smirked. "Gladly. You either want to have some 'girl time' by running together in the woods, or you know that you look rather fetching in gym shorts. If it's girl time you want, I would definitely be in the way, and if it's the shorts, I can admire you much better from the porch."

"Darcy!" Caroline giggled and swatted his arm, "you're horrible! Eliza, how should we punish him for that comment?"

"I don't think it's necessary. That's the most personality I've ever seen him display... he's probably going to implode in the next sixty seconds. Someone should go get a mop and some towels ready."

"Hilarious," Will said in a voice that suggested otherwise.

Admittedly, ruffling feathers is something of a pastime of mine, especially when my target is the stuck-up embodiment of human arrogance. I can't help myself. So I smirked at him. "What's wrong Darcy? Has no one ever made fun of you before?"

"Ha, no one makes fun of Darcy, there's nothing to make fun of. He's perfect in every way," Caroline interjected.

I turned to Will, looking very serious. "Hmmm, that's quite the accomplishment. I don't think I can be friends with someone too perfect to occasionally poke fun at," I shrugged, "I guess that's the end of our conversations."

Will gave me his typical offended glare, "Nobody's without flaws. And besides, I have a feeling you'd tease anyone regardless of how perfect they seemed."

"I don't just go around teasing _anyone _about_ anything_. Why would I make fun of someone for being interesting or intelligent or being kind? If you don't find any humor in things that are stupid or ridiculous though, then you should probably reexamine some of your life choices." I narrowed my eyes at him, "But I bet no one would ever accuse you of being stupid or ridiculous."

"I don't think anyone can avoid those things, but I try not to do anything that could be seen as a weakness."

_Oh, right into my web, little fly_. I tried to keep my expression neutral, "Like being conceited? Or having an over abundance of self-importance?"

"I'm not conceited. But I would argue that if a person is respectable and successful, then how could their _pride_ be seen as weakness?"

I turned my head to hide my smile at his unintentional admission.

"Are you guys done yet?" Caroline was back to stretching, hands behind her head to give Will an eyeful of her cleavage.

"Yes, Will has convinced me that he's completely defect-free, so we can't make fun of him."

"I didn't say I was perfect!"

I gasped melodramatically, "You mean, you're not?"

"No," Will paused for a second, "I'm stubborn. And I can be very resentful. If I have a falling out with someone, I never change my mind about them."

"Ah-hah! So you do have defects! Those are good ones though. I suppose I can't fault you for being resentful or stubborn."

"I think everyone is born with some character flaw that can't be fixed, no matter how hard they try," Will mused, leaning forward and placing his book on his lap.

"Like your magical ability to hate everyone you see?" I asked, slightly more venomously than I meant to.

"And your habit of blindly misunderstanding them," he said with an ironic smile.

Our eyes locked, neither of us willing to back down. I had just opened my mouth to respond with another barbed comment when Caroline interrupted with a huge sigh.

"Oh come on," Caroline said, rolling her eyes and grabbing my arm, "I thought we were running, not discussing psychology 101."

Reluctantly, I walked towards the road with her. Two minutes in to it, I regretted ever saying anything about going for a run. Caroline's version of a run looked nearly identical to that of the Jazzercise moms that used to power walk past my house, complete with pumping arms and tightened glutes. She didn't want to get sweaty. I on the other hand, who was actually running during my run, kept having to turn around and go back to Caroline because she would scream at me every time I got more than thirty yards ahead of her. By the time we got back to the house, I had run double the distance she had, and was I completely drenched in sweat.

Charlie was leaving the house as we got back, headed to a meeting with the farmers to discuss the ground thaw in the fields. Seeing the state I was in, he cheerfully recommended that I take a shower.

"Yeah, okay, I'll do that. Actually, if you have a whirlpool bath with hot water jets and colored lights, that's a little more my style. And I'll need a rubber ducky."

"Anything else?"

"One of those heated towel bars?"

"We really do have a working shower."

"Are you guys wizards or something? How do you have a working shower?" I asked, astounded.

"Naw, no wizardry. Darcy just rigged up a bucket above one of the tubs in the bathroom. You just heat some water, put it in the bucket, pull a cord to open the hose for the shower head and _viola_! Bathroom's down the hall, second door on the right. Extra towels are in the closet."

"Have I ever told you that you're my favorite Bingley?" I beamed at him.

I grabbed my dry clothes from Caroline's room and bounded off towards the bathroom, nearly colliding with Will, who had just gotten out of said shower. Will, who was wearing nothing save a dangerously low-slung towel around his hips. I tried to ignore the v-shaped line of muscle that dipped below his navel and completely failed. We both stopped and stared at each other in surprise. My face began to heat up when I realized that not only was I ogling a very physically appealing mostly-naked man, but that he was quite fixated on the sweaty t-shirt that was now clinging to me like a second skin. After a few seconds of ungracefully stepping around him, I managed to slip into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

I poured some cold water from a bucket into the sink basin and splashed my face in an attempt to cool it down. I had no idea what my problem was, but I blamed it on hormones. It's a shame they can't tell the difference between a nice hot guy and a really offensive miserable one.

After heating up a large pot of water in one of the fireplaces near the kitchen, I managed to pour it into the bucket above the tub. The makeshift shower proved to be somewhat difficult to figure out how to use, but once I did, it was absolute heaven, and I made a mental note to ask Charlie to help us make something similar for our house. I suppose there were a few perks to having to stay at Netherfield after all.


	6. Chapter Six

Jane and I decided the easiest way to get her home was to use the same wagon that we used to transport water every week. Admittedly, it probably wasn't the best idea, but since no one came up with a better solution we decided to stick with it. I had Charlie dispatch another note to my house, letting our family know of our plan and requesting that someone wheel it over.

I had helped Jane hobble down to the living room to wait, and she seemed to be much more content than she had been in the past few days. Though she had spent lots of time with both Charlie and I, the view from the bed and the hours of tedium were starting to get to her. I was surprised how nice Louisa and Caroline were to her. They asked her profusely how she was feeling, and even offered to let her borrow some of their old fashion magazines until she was feeling well enough to resume her usual activities. Maybe I had judged them too harshly.

When both my younger sisters _and_ my mother to showed up at noon dragging the little red wagon behind them, I suspected it had more to do with their curiosity about the house than an actual desire to help get Jane home, but at least they'd done what we had asked. As the three of them stepped into the living room, I heard Louisa mutter to Caroline, "What is this? A Bennet family reunion?" Both sisters giggled under their breath. And just when I started thinking they weren't as bad as I had previously thought. So much for that.

Charlie offered my sisters a seat, and they sat down, not so subtlety checking out the sparse but large and neatly decorated room. My mother also gave the room a good once-over, and finding absolutely nothing to complain about, went over to Jane and began inspecting her ankle as though she had thorough medical expertise.

"Jane, honey, I don't know if we should be taking you home yet, this still looks very swollen."

"It's much better than it was. If I don't put too much pressure on it, I can hardly feel it. And besides, I don't have to walk home, that's what the wagon's for."

"I still don't think you should be moved," she frowned, "and we should send a doctor here."

"Will's a doctor, Mom, and he already re-checked her foot this morning. He agrees with us, Jane can go home," I said.

My mother eyed Will doubtfully, and spoke as though he wasn't sitting right in front of her.

"He looks too young to be a doctor," she scoffed.

She must have been gossiping with the other mothers again to have this sudden deterioration of opinion on the subject of Will Darcy.

"I was in my first year of neurosurgery residency. I had eight years of college and medical school before that. I can assure you that I'm not too young to be a doctor." Will seemed extremely insulted that his medical skills were even being discussed, much less debated. He glared at my mother, and my mother glowered right back at him.

I decided to ease the stalemate with a change of subject. "Has Charlotte come by while we were gone? I meant to send a note to her that I was here, but I completely forgot."

"Yes, she did. Her father came by too. Now _that_ is a man with an extensive education! Did you know he spent almost ten years pursuing his Masters degree in English?"

"I don't think that he spent a decade in school by choice, Mom. He kept failing his thesis," I said, and attempted to focus back to the topic of Charlotte. "Did she say when she'd be by again?"

"She might have, but I don't remember. You know, she's really not as pretty as she used to be. But maybe it's just because I'm always comparing her to my girls. Then again, there's no one in town that even holds a candle to Jane's beauty."

Nobody said anything, and Jane looked massively uncomfortable, taking a vested interest in the fabric pattern on her chair. The whole conversation was starting to feel like a slow moving train wreck, and I looked longly at the door, wishing I could just run for the hills. Oddly enough, it was Lydia that managed to save it before it got completely out of hand.

"You should throw a house warming party Charlie! We never get to go to any parties anymore and you have the perfect house for it!"

"Yes! That would be so much fun!" Kitty squealed, and I tried not to cringe as I permanently lost one octave of my hearing.

Charlie looked at his sisters and Will, none of whom changed their sour expressions. He took it as approval, and grinned at my youngest sisters, "When Jane is feeling better I'll let you name the day!"

My sisters were beyond excited, and I decided that leaving on a positive note would be the best plan of action. I stood up and thanked Charlie and his sisters for their hospitality. Kitty and I helped Jane outside and got her comfortable in the wagon. Will came out with my pack before I had a chance to go grab it. My fingers brushed his as I took it, and he quickly pulled them away, giving me a quick nod before walking back into the house. I stared after him, confusion and frustration filling my brain. He could have been the president of the Mixed Signals Club.

Meanwhile, my mom was gushing at Charlie. "Thank you again, for taking such good care of our poor Jane. And I'm sorry that you had to accommodate Lizzie, none of us thought she should have stayed."

As soon as we were on the road home, my sisters eagerly broke the bad news. While Jane and I were at Netherfield, our house was vandalized and someone had tried to break in. It wasn't as serious as it could have been; I couldn't imagine anyone who would spray paint stick figure unicorns and the words "O'Doyle Rules!" all over a house as having nefarious intentions. It was a reality check though. And they had broken a window in an attempt to get inside. Apparently my mother screamed so loud she scared them off before my father had even gotten downstairs.

My mother was beside herself about it, fretting over what Mr. Collins would think when he saw graffiti and a boarded up window when he came to stay. The graffiti was actually an easy fix, and I set Lydia and Kitty up with some paint brushes and an ancient can of paint from the basement. The color wasn't a perfect match but it would look better than it did. Boarding up the window proved to be more difficult, but we managed with some salvaged plywood and the nails I'd been stockpiling. Secretly I was glad that our house was looking a little shabby for Mr. Collins. I didn't want him to get _too_ comfortable.

* * *

Truth be told, my father and I had been somewhat looking forward to Mr. Collin's visit all week. True, Mr. Collins sounded like a bumbling moron in his letters to us but that was generally the point; we'd been lacking live action entertainment for a very long time. And he did not disappoint. Fuel's still available to those who can pay for it, as is transportation, and the cheapest way of long distance travel is to take a shared car. They take a reasonably small amount of fuel and can navigate torn up roads with relative ease. Mr. Collins booked a shared car from Rosings, New York to Springfield, Massachusetts, and from there, he hired a bike to take him the rest of the ten miles to Meryton.

He showed up at our doorstep on a Thursday night with a fanny pack buckled around his bright blue peacoat and a sun visor atop his head. As he led Mr. Collins in to the house, my father glanced at me with such an elated expression that I had to bite my lip to keep from giggling. He took Mr. Collin's visor and coat, exposing his large collection of crystal pendant necklaces. My entire family gathered in the hallway to greet him.

"Mr. Collins, we're so happy you're here. Call me Allison, and forgive me, but I didn't catch your first name," my mother said.

"Oh, my dear Allison, my first name is William… William Collins, but I would far prefer you to call me Collins since it means "child", and that's precisely the state of being that I want to keep in this universe." I raised my eyebrows at my father, but he had his face trained on our guest, and was determined not to look in my direction.

Collins continued, "I have looked forward to meeting all of you for the longest time, and I must say that even though my journey here was exhausting I don't regret it at all now that I'm here!" He pushed a long strand of greasy hair out of his face, "Catherine DeBourgh, my benefactor, would agree with me that before we get to know one another and make a connection, I should take a few minutes to relax and find my center. But before you show me to my guest room, I would like to give you all a hug and start to get some positive energy flowing in this house."

After giving each of us an uncomfortably long embrace that smelled strongly of patchouli, he followed my mother up the stairs to the guest room that had been prepared for him, and I realized that he had the words "Spiritual Gangster" embroidered on the back of his t-shirt. I turned and buried my face in Jane's shoulder to conceal the explosive laughter I couldn't hold in anymore.

The next morning, Mr. Collins came downstairs to join us for breakfast, hair still greasy and necklaces still clicking around his neck. His shirt, though clean, was equally as stupid as his previous shirt; this one was bright yellow with the words "Yoga Is For Posers" and a posing stick figure illustration. My father took the opportunity to drive the conversation to the topic that he knew would give him the most amusement.

"So Collins, tell us more about this benefactor of yours. She seems like a _very_ interesting lady."

"Oh yes, though Catherine is very wealthy and important, she is the most spiritual, generous, and gracious person I know. Just last week she had me over to a very decadent meal, and she always reads my notes before I give my spirituality lectures and tells me what I need to do to improve them. I've heard some people call her arrogant and haughty, but I'm sure it's because they've never actually met her."

"I wouldn't imagine that someone so quick to help you improve yourself could be called arrogant," my father said with a smile.

"Exactly! She even came over to my house to go over some minor changes I was thinking about making to some of the rooms in my house, and had a lot of advice on what I should do. And she also suggested that I should marry as soon as possible and fill it with children," Collins said, beaming at my sisters and I. I nearly choked on the piece of corn bread I was chewing. If he thought he was going to aim his thoughts of matrimony at any of us, he might find himself missing a few key body parts.

"She sounds just delightful. Does she live near you?" my mother asked.

"Yes, she's my next door neighbor. She lives there with her daughter Anne, who has the most excuisite aura I have ever seen. Catherine says her beauty can be attributed to the fact that she's been brought up so well, and has such excellent manners. She never really recovered from contracting the virus, but I always tell Catherine that it makes her daughter a 'delicate flower', and even more of a rare beauty because of it. I've become very skilled at making little comments that make women very happy, if I do say so myself."

"Do you find that you need to think of these comments ahead of time, or do they come to you at the spur of the moment?" my father asked, composing his face to be very serious.

"Mostly I just say them as they pop in to my head. I do have a small notebook that I occasionally write down flattering comments that I can use in a variety of situations, but I don't want to make it sound like I've rehearsed them ahead of time."

"I don't think anyone could say your compliments sounded rehearsed," I murmured under my breath, and grinned at my sisters as they tried not to giggle.

I spent as much time as possible away from the house. Though my mother continuously encouraged me to stay home and help with the cooking and keep our guest entertained, I was determined to spend as little time with Collins as could be managed. Even Jane, who could usually put up with almost anyone, was hard pressed to enjoy any of Collins company. I felt bad leaving her to go on water and salvage runs, but there wasn't much I could do since her ankle was still healing. I even took Kitty with me on two occasions, since she begged me to help her escape for a few hours.

The one silver lining was that on one of my excursions I found a pair of lace up boots in Jane's size, and by tearing out the sole and cutting off the toes of one of them, we were able to make an ankle brace. It was stiff enough to keep her ankle immobilized, and she could bear more weight on it without excruciating pain. She began taking small trips in to town with the help of the family bicycle.

In an effort to escape Collins, she decided to come with our younger sisters and I as we went to the market. Our plans were ruined however, when both of our parents requested that we take Collins along, though I'm certain they didn't have the same motives in mind. Collins had made the very grave mistake of assuming that he could hang out and chat with my father in his office, and for the first time since Collins arrival, my father was not amused. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what my mother's motives were, but she was very vocal about me keeping him company.

We started our walk slow enough, but as soon as Collins started talking about channeling the spirit of his deceased yorkshire terrier, I quickened my pace. All of my sisters were used to the exercise and had no trouble keeping up with me, including Jane on her bike. Within a few minutes, Collins was so out of breath he couldn't speak though I wasn't sure of the sound of his wheezing was an improvement over the sound of his talking.

We were passing through the double gates of the main fence and beginning to make our way to the market, when Lydia shrieked and ran towards two young men who were talking in the street. One was dressed in military fatigues and one was in jeans and a wool coat.

"Denny! I missed you!" she cried, and practically leapt into his arms. He looked very familiar, and I recognized him as the guard that had been making out with her at Jim's meeting.

"Ooof! Hi Lydia… Okay, okay. Good to see you too," he said, peeling her arms off of him.

The rest of our group walked over to join them.

"I can't believe I never introduced you guys! I'm so rude!" Lydia said, "these are my sisters Jane, Lizzie, and Kitty. And this is Denny," she said, grabbing the arm of the man in gray army camouflage. Collins indelicately cleared his throat. "Oh, and that's our cousin Collins," she said, waving a dismissive hand at him.

"Well not technically related, but these days it doesn't really matter, does it?" he said with a disturbing smile.

Denny's composure faltered a little as he recognized me as the sister that had to disentangle him from Lydia a few weeks ago, but he didn't say anything about it. He turned to his friend, and introduced him as George Wickham.

I had never met anyone with flirting skills that rivaled Lydia's until I met George. He practically radiated warmth and charisma like it was his occupation. He looked to be a few years older than me, with a crop of disheveled sandy hair, a light smattering of freckles, and a disarmingly crooked smile. He had moved to town a few months ago and had just been hired by Jim Forester as one of the new store room guards. Like the rest of the Meryton security force, he'd be required to work most nights in all kinds of weather in exchange for room and board, as well as a small monthly stipend. It wasn't the easiest or safest work, but it was an honest living that left the guards and their families reasonably well provided for.

While my sisters and I fell into easy conversation with the men, I kept catching George glance at me, and I noticed an impish spark in his eyes that was very tempting. With such a lack of new faces in town and the extremely small dating pool, it was refreshing to have a new possibility. We all chatted for over a half hour, and George had us all in near hysterics over a story detailing Denny's recent attempt to give himself a haircut with a box cutter. He was just getting to the part where Denny had managed to turn the ugliest mullet anyone had ever seen into the worst crew cut to have ever existed when Jane grabbed my arm.

"Lizzie! Is that Charlie? I can't tell from here."

I searched in the direction she was looking, and sure enough, one tall, blonde, handsome man was walking through the gates in to town. And another tall and handsome man was walking beside him, though far less pleasant than his companion. Jane waved and the men ambled over to us. Charlie gave me a big grin and lightly embraced Jane, and Will gave me a tight lipped smile. It was then that I noticed that George's story had trailed off and he was gazing at Will as wide eyed and pale as if he'd seen a ghost. I glanced at Will who was staring at George with equal intensity, but looked completely murderous. Will muttered something to Charlie and then swiftly turned on his heal and strode towards the town center.

"Jeez. What's his prob?" Lydia frowned at Will's retreating figure.

Charlie looked surprised, but just shrugged, "Just Will being Will. Never likes to hang around and talk when there's work to do." He squeezed Jane's shoulder and expressed his desire to see us all again soon before heading off in the same direction as his friend.

George seemed to have quickly regained his composure. "Well, as much as we'd love to continue talking with the most beautiful ladies in town we do have a job to do! I hope to see you all soon?" Whatever had passed between him and Will, George certainly wasn't showing any uneasiness now.

I smiled, "You'll find us at the market more often than not. See you around."

And I most certainly did.


	7. Chapter Seven

_A/N: Happy weekend, friends! Have some more sexual tension! Ooops, I mean more story... yes, more story._

* * *

After trading off a bundle of steel piping sections I'd acquired for a couple bags of dried apples and three blocks of hard cheese, I was yet again perusing the book vendor's selections at the market. A masculine voice in my ear broke me out of my reverie. "So she's stunning _and_ she reads. This is starting to sound a little too good to be true."

I spun around to face a very cheerful looking George Wickham.

"No sisters today?" he smiled.

"No, I walked through a stream on the way here to throw them off my trail."

"Then we'll have to enjoy the solitude while we have the chance," he laughed, and handed me a hot cup of tea.

"What's this for?" I asked, as I watched him take a sip from his own cup.

"Liquids in general tend to prevent dehydration, but tea has been known to have some very beneficial properties too," he said, without missing a beat.

"Hilarious. You know what I meant."

He grinned, "I just want to get to know you. I was thinking about asking you out for coffee, but there aren't any Starbucks around here. Or anywhere. Come to think of it, I haven't seen any coffee in about four years, so this is kinda the next best thing."

"A tea date then," I smiled.

"Come on, there's some really romantic looking bleachers over there. I bet if we sit on them long enough we'll completely forget we're in a packed gymnasium."

We talked for a little while, and I told him some of my favorite stories about my childhood and what it was like growing up in Meryton. I was dying to find out how he knew Will and what the feud between them was, but I wasn't sure how to bring it up without sounding nosy.

"Is that Netherfield house far from here?" George swirled the tea around in his cup, as I tried to pretend the bleacher seats weren't painfully digging into my tail bone.

_That was too easy._

"No, not at all. Two or three miles. Why?" I asked, sounding much more indifferent than I felt.

"Just curious," he hesitated. "Is Will Darcy living there?"

"Yeah, for about the last month or so. He's living there with Charles Bingley." I waited for George to continue, but he seemed tentative. I decided forge on ahead, damn the consequences... it couldn't have been too sticky a topic since he was the one that broached it in the first place. "So what's your beef with him?"

"With Darcy?"

"Yeah, Darcy. I saw you guys staring each other down like a bunch of territorial wolves."

"You saw that, huh? I've actually known Darcy since I was a kid. We grew up together."

_Well, stop the presses. _"Seriously? Because that didn't look like a 'hey, childhood friend! How are you?' kind of greeting."

"How well do you know him?" he asked.

I chuckled, "Waaaaay more than I'd like to. I had to spend a few days at Netherfield with him and mostly I wanted to staple his mouth shut whenever he talked. He's really arrogant."

"I think you and I might be the only ones who think that," he scratched his head.

"No, he's given himself quite a reputation. There aren't very many people in Meryton that seem to like him."

"That's a surprise. Usually people are so taken with the fact that he owns a gated community that they think very highly him by default. I hope he's not planning on sticking around too long, because I'm not sure I'll stay if he does. It's so frustrating! The whole reason I'm here taking this job is because of him. I should have been doing just fine at Pemberley."

"Really? What happened?" I frowned.

"Yeah, really. The late Mr. Darcy was one of the best men I have ever known. I was like a second son to him after my father died, and I think Darcy's always been jealous that his father loved me just as much. When Mr. Darcy died I was included his will, and received a rather large inheritance," George let out a very deep sigh, "It was right after the first wave of viruses hit, and Will convinced me to sign everything over to help pay for a food and medical supply stockpile to keep us alive. After I signed it over, and all the supplies came in he had his security kick me out with nothing but the clothes on my back."

I was shocked. Obviously I didn't really like Will, but I didn't think he could be so cruel as to force someone out into the cold, especially if that person was practically family.

"And no one stopped him from making you leave?"

"I had hoped that his younger sister might, but he's practically brainwashed her to agree with everything he says. We used to be really close, but she's just as bad as he is."

I shook my head in consternation. "What a family."

"Hah! And that's nothing compared to his Aunt DeBourgh."

_Wait... DeBourgh?_ "What is her first name?" I asked slowly.

"Catherine. She lives in New York with her daughter Anne."

"Woah… hello coincidence. Catherine's the lady Collins works for. She sounds like a real peach."

"You have no idea. She's awful. Rumor has it that Will's engaged to Anne. They want to keep their estates together."

"I know options are limited, but that seems kinda… incestuous…" I made a face.

"Hey, if they don't want to branch out their family tree, who am I to argue? They can keep the Darcy blood out of the general human gene pool and we'll be better off for it. Still…" he made a gagging noise. "Anyways, I don't want to talk about Darcy any more. What does a beautiful, intelligent girl do for fun around here?"

"I don't remember calling you intelligent or beautiful," I smirked, tossing back the remainder of my tea.

"Oh, and she's a comedian, too," he said, laughing.

"Well… there's this house warming party… but I don't know if you'd be interested."

"Would I be going as your plus one? Because there's no way I wouldn't be interested if that was the case."

"It's at Netherfield," I watched his smile falter a fraction. "But it's not Will's party, it's Charlie's, and it's an open invitation. He's even holding it in the afternoon so most of the guards can go."

"You know what, screw Darcy. If he doesn't want to see me, he can go back to Pemberley. I'll be there."

I gave George directions to Netherfield, and he meandered out of the market after giving me a quick kiss on the cheek and the promise to keep me separated from Collins at all times during the party. I returned my cup to the tea seller, and grabbed my previous purchases. I liked George. There was definitely a spark there. He was a little too flirty for my taste, but maybe I just needed to get to know him better. And the Netherfield party seemed as good a place as any to do that.

* * *

I couldn't take it anymore. Every corner I turned, my sisters were shrieking and running after each other, my mother was loudly talking about Jane's yet-to occur "engagement to Charlie" and even my father, typically level headed, was heatedly arguing politics with Mr. Lucas. George Wickham was nowhere to be seen.

And for the icing on the horrible party cake, Collins was following me around like his life depended on it. I'd tried to convince him that the party would be very spiritually draining for a someone accustomed to quiet reflection, but he'd insisted on going anyway. I ducked away as soon as he was engaged in conversation, and headed for a set of french doors that led to a large deck. Quietly shutting the doors behind me, I leaned back against them, shut my eyes, and exhaled a sigh of relief at the lack of noise.

"Do you hate parties, or are you dodging that bizarre hippie following you everywhere?"

My eyes shot open. Will sat in an adirondack chair, drink in one hand, book in the other. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Oh, sorry… I didn't think anyone was out here," I turned and began to open the doors.

"No, wait! It's fine, don't worry about it," he put his book down. "I've been meaning to ask you something anyway."

My initial reaction would have been to leave the deck, because spending a few minutes with Will was about as palatable as eating a driveway. But I'm far too curious for my own good, and it would have bothered me for at least a week not knowing what he wanted to ask.

"If this has anything to do with Caroline, I didn't _actually_ call her a prostitute, I just said that she was wearing the same boots as a call girl I saw in New Y-"

"No, it's nothing to do with Caroline," Will said, mouth twitching slightly. "This is kind of strange, but I figured you might know better than anyone. I've been looking for sheet music, for a piano. It's been difficult to come by, so I thought perhaps I could hire you to help me acquire some."

Oh, come on. I still owed him for helping to fix Jane's ankle, and karma's a bitch (according to Collins anyway). So much much for my vow of never working for Will Darcy. And besides, I knew exactly where to look for sheet music, so it's not like it would take long. "There's a woman that used to give private piano lessons out of her house before everything, you know, happened. She died and I don't think anyone's lived there since, so it's likely there's something kicking around there," I said.

"Great," he stood up, "Let's go."

"What, now?" I sputtered.

"We've got a few hours before dinner. Unless you'd rather… mingle," he looked through the doors at the crowd of party goers. I could see Collins peering over my mother's head, desperately looking for me.

"Yeah, okay. Let's go."

The distance to the piano teacher's old house was barely a mile and a half. Still, it seemed unfathomably longer due to the fact that Will and I barely spoke for the entire duration of the walk.

"You know, this whole not talking thing is really starting to weird me out," I muttered.

"Do you usually talk when you're on a salvage job?"

"No, I'm usually by myself."

Will looked at me, slightly aghast.

"And you think having a conversation will make it more comfortable for you? Or for me?" he asked.

I smirked, "Both of us, since we're _both_ horribly unsocial and quiet, and we generally don't even speak unless we think everyone listening will find it worthy of a standing ovation. This right here, Darcy," I motioned between us, "is a judgement-free zone. Speak now or forever hold your speaking."

Will snorted, "We both know that _you're_ not unsocial or quiet. I don't think it sounds like me either, but you apparently think it does."

Apparently Will was catching on to my snarky comments, and I wasn't sure if that meant I should tone it down or continue my occasional verbal assault. He didn't look terribly offended for once, so I decided to just proceed with caution. We rounded a corner on the road. "Oh look, there's Mrs. Richardson's house!" I pointed.

Her house looked very much the same as I remembered, though it was in a state of disrepair. But the same giant tree was still growing right next to her driveway (I had backed my car into it on more than one occasion… learner's permit, okay?), and the same red shutters were still hanging by the now shattered windows. Her front door was shut tight. I moved up the steps to open it, but Will stepped in front of me.

"What are you doing?" I protested, annoyed that he was taking the lead.

"I'm a bit more intimidating than you are, in case anyone's in here," he retorted quietly, equally annoyed that I was questioning him. I studied his tall and imposing figure. With his black pants and dark leather jacket, he looked like a guy you wouldn't want to mess with. He had a point.

"Fair enough."

He turned the knob and pushed but the door didn't move. Repositioning himself, he shoved his shoulder in to it, and the door made a few sounds of complaint but still didn't budge. Will stepped back, scowling.

"We could wait a while and see if the door will buckle under the pressure of your very intense glare, or you could let me try," I said dryly.

"If I can't, I'm almost pos-" Will stopped mid sentence as I side kicked the door right underneath the door knob, breaking the latch. The door swung open.

"After you," I gestured, giving him my best Vanna White impression. He was looking at me as though I'd grown a second head, but said nothing as he stepped towards the door.

There was no one in the house, save for a feral cat who went darting out as soon as Will stepped inside, nearly giving both of us a heart attack. The cute tidy little bungalow I remembered was mostly trashed inside. Everything in the kitchen save the appliances were gone. No one had taken the heavy furniture, which was no surprise since none of it had ever been in particularly good shape. Sunlight was spilling through the ratty curtains, illuminating the years of dust and grime that had accumulated on everything, including the baby grand piano that I had spent an hour a week practicing on when I was in high school.

"She used to keep everything on this bookshelf… maybe she moved it? Oh! There!" I spotted the worn stack of blue binders she kept all her sheet music in. Seems that no one had thought piano music would come in handy when they were ransacking the house.

"These?" Will asked picking one of the binders up and leafing through it. "This is perfect! I don't think she has any of these."

"Who doesn't?"

"Georgie, my little sister."

"That's nice of you. She lives with your parents?"

"No, my parents died when the second virus strain went around. I had Georgie come to the States right after so I could look after her. She lives at the Pemberley Estates," he said, still going through the binder.

"I'm sorry. My younger sister Mary died when the first strain hit. Kitty and my mom caught it too, but we were lucky and they recovered." Not wanting to dwell on the sadness of the past, I knelt down and busied myself opening a drawer at the bottom of a bookshelf, "I think there must be more around here somewhere. Look around, she used to have a cabinet full of loose music booklets too."

"She also has this," Will grinned, holding up two ancient looking bottles of scotch. He pointed to a small cabinet next to her piano that was packed with bottles of alcohol.

"Ha! I knew she was a lush! She was always pouring things into her tea when she thought we weren't looking. Not that I blame her… six hours of a day of listening to kids learn piano would drive just about anyone to drink." I stood and dusted off my pants, and went over to the cabinet to dig through the bottles. I lifted out a bottle of bourbon, groaning happily. "This was my drink! All through college, practically every Friday night. Usually there was some Ginger Ale in there too, but I'm not complaining."

Will unscrewed the cap off the scotch and inhaled. He sat down against the wall across from me and murmured, "I feel like we should toast to something."

"Hmmm. Let's see…. here's to bread, because without it, there would be no toast." I clinked my bottle with his and raised it to my lips, feeling the sweet and smokey alcohol burn a path down my throat.

"Really? No toasting to family? Friends? Unreliable acquaintances?" he protested, but took a sip anyway.

"Funny you should mention- when you met us the other day, we had just made a new acquaintance," I said, watching Will clench his jaw and take another sip of scotch.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Wickham is excellent at making friends wherever he goes. It's a shame he's less talented at keeping them."

"I suppose you're referring to the end of your friendship with him. Something tells me he's the one suffering for it, not you."

Darcy was silent and picked at the metal ring around the top of the bottle of scotch.

"Fine. Maybe we should discuss a different topic. You pick," I suggested.

"Books?"

"Ugh, no. Not when I'm drinking. I think we would have very differing opinions on books and I get kind of defensive about some of them."

"You? Defensive? I don't believe it," he said mockingly.

"I'm allowed a few faults!" I took a few more sips of my drink. " And speaking of faults, you once said that you neverchange your mind if you have a falling out with someone… are you careful to make sure that someone has _actually_ done you wrong before you cutthem off?"

"I am."

"And you never let yourself be blind… blinded by prejudice?"

"No!" He tried putting his bottle down but tipped it over, a tiny bit of scotch dripping onto the floor.

We were both silent for a few minutes, savoring our thoughts and lost in our drinks. Or maybe it was lost in our thoughts and savoring our drinks…

I couldn't let it go. "You know, it's very important for people who dontchange their opinions to correctly judge a situation! Otherwise, you could potentially be an asshole to someone who doesn't deserve it," I said, pointing an accusatory finger in Will's direction.

"What are you getting at?" he demanded.

"Whoare you?" I mused, waving my quarter empty bottle of bourbon in Will's face.

He stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Will, I'm a doctor and I-"

"No nono I know _who_ you are I just… you can't… figure you out. I heard thirthy," I held up several of my fingers for clarification, "different things bout you and I dunno what to think-" it was at this point that I dropped my bottle and winced as it shattered. "Shit!"

I looked down and realized that I had sliced the palm of my hand open and it was bleeding heavily. "Shit!"

Will crawled forward on his knees and sat across from me, taking my injured hand in his own. He inspected it for broken glass, and finding none pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it tightly to my palm to quell the blood flow. We sat in silence, him staring at the blood seeping into the cloth, and me staring at him. He really was incredibly handsome. And he smelled good, like clean clothes and a hint of citrus. I studied the fringe of his dark eyelashes, his heavy brow, the dark curls of hair carelessly falling over one of his eyes. And his lips, frowning but still clever looking, a little bit sensuous. He was sitting so close, and I leaned slightly closer to him. My movement caught his attention.

"Elizabeth," he leaned forward, "stay away fr-"

I closed the distance and put my lips on his. He was tentative at first, mouth barely touching mine, but after a moment of hesitation I could almost feel something in him snap, and I was tasting lips and scotch and a hint of tongue. Letting go of my palm, his hands slid up my neck and wound into my hair while his teeth lightly grazed my lower lip. I'd never been kissed like that before, and it made my heart start beating as quickly as if I'd been running. Almost as abruptly as he had started kissing me, Will pulled away, swearing quietly.

"Wha? What?" I asked breathlessly.

"I can't… I just can't," he said, mouth firmly set.

_Oh God._ I just kissed Will Darcy. Will Darcy doesn't like me. He's not attracted to me and he hates everyone. I don't like Will Darcy. He's engaged to his cousin. Why is the floor moving?


	8. Chapter Eight

It took two and a half hours for me to become sober enough to walk without assistance. Two and a half painful hours of trying to stop my hand from bleeding, staring out the window, staring at sheet music, trying to read the back of a bottle of gin, anything that didn't involve acknowledging the fact the I was sitting in the same room as Will.

When we finally left, sheet music and alcohol in tow, it was just on the verge of getting dark. The party was still in full swing at Netherfield, and it looked as though even more people were congregating in the lamplit rooms than when we had left. Jane, Charlotte, and Charlie were deep in conversation sitting around a coffee table in the living room. Silently handing over the music binders to Will, I hurried towards them.

"Lizzie! Where have you been? Mom was looking for you earlier!" my sister exclaimed when she saw me. Her eyes widened when she noticed the bloody rag wrapped around my hand. "Jeez… what happened to you?"

"It's nothing, just a cut. It'll be fine." Jane looked less than convinced. Truthfully, now that the alcohol was wearing off, it stung enough to make my eyes water.

"It's not going to be fine if we don't get it cleaned out," Will said, materializing behind me. I resisted the urge to shake him off as he clasped my upper arm and began to guide me towards the open kitchen. Pulling a stool out from under a kitchen island, he sat me down and told me to wait, exiting through the door to the hallway. As I watched the throngs of people conversing from my perch in the kitchen, Mr. Lucas came wandering in with his empty punch glass looking for a refill.

"Lizzie! There you are! Why are you sitting in here all by yourself?"

"Oh, you know, just picked a fight with a biker gang. Need some patching up," I said, grimacing and wiggling my hand at him.

Will returned, carrying a tackle box. He opened it and placed a glass bottle and a roll of gauze on the counter. I blanched when he pulled out a needle and thread.

"Ah, well, I hope to see you with a smile on your face again soon… maybe when you're dressed as the maid of honor for a certain upcoming event?" Mr. Lucas said grinning and nodding in the direction of Charlie and Jane. Will looked up sharply and stared in the direction Mr. Lucas had indicated, just as Charlie was tucking a straying lock of Jane's hair behind her ear.

"Mr. Lucas, I don't think-" I began, but he had already refilled his punch and waddled out.

Will frowned for a moment before turning his attention back to his medical kit. "This is probably going to hurt, but you need a few stitches." He doused my cut in clear liquid from the bottle, and it burned like fire before subsiding into to a dull throb. He threaded the needle and I stared at the ceiling, willing myself not to pass out. Tiny stabs of pain in my hand overwhelmed me for a minute, and then subsided to a more manageable discomfort. I looked down to see four neat little stitches joining the edges of the cut on my palm. He deftly tied a few layers of gauze around my palm before knotting it off and cutting the loose ends with a pair of scissors. "Make sure you keep it covered in clean bandages, and I'll remove the stitches in a few days. And don't get it wet."

"Thanks, Mom," I muttered, as Will began packing up his kit. He didn't seem to hear me.

"Lizzie, darling! I wondered where you'd gotten off too, but it seems you have a terrible habit of disappearing when you're needed." Collins weaseled his way through several groups of partygoers and stood about a foot closer to me than my personal space-o-meter deemed necessary. "Not that this isn't a wonderful party, though I have to say, I have been invited to several much more lavish… Oh!" He was staring at Will, who was completely ignoring him. "Aren't you… you're William Darcy, right?" Though Collins asked the question, he said it with such exaggerated surprise that it was obvious he knew exactly who Will was.

"And you are?" Will was clearly not in the mood play games.

"I am Collins, and I am so happy to finally be meeting you, since I've heard so much about you. I have just found out that my benefactor, Catherine DeBourgh, is also your aunt! And I can happily say that when I left her home a few days ago, she was doing very well. Oh, the stars must have aligned, I don't think this could merely be a coincidence!" he simpered.

"I'm glad to hear she's well," Will said tightly.

"Yes, and not only is she well, she told me, confidentially of course, that she is hiring a mason to build a the most ex-"

"I'm sorry Mr. Collins, but you'll have to excuse me," with a quick glance at me, Will turned and disappeared down the hallway.

"I think we're going to be very good friends. In fact I'm sure we will be. It must be nice for him to know someone that shares such an intimate connection with his family," Collins beamed, "Lizzie, I think they're serving dinner. Come sit with me and I'll make sure that we keep our conversation limited to things that you understand."

"Collins, I can safely say that I have never worried that our conversations will be beyond my comprehension," I smiled widely.

"Well then, to dinner," he said happily offering me his arm. I pretended not to notice, and walked to the dining room with Collins gracelessly floundering behind me.

The Netherfield dining room was enormous. The carved mahogany table they had set up was definitely an antique, and could easily fit twenty to thirty people. I managed to avoid sitting next to Collins, only to be sandwiched between my mother and Caroline, which wasn't much of an improvement. My mother spent the entire meal boasting about her expectations of an engagement between my sister and Charlie to anyone at the table who would listen. And Caroline was definitely listening, and definitely not pleased. Luckily my sister was seated at the other end of the table with Charlie. She would have been mortified to hear the things coming out of our mother's mouth.

As I hissed at my mother for the fourth time to lower her voice, I snuck a glance to make sure Jane was still blissfully unaware of the tactless end of the table. She was, thank goodness, as was Charlie. But Will, who had been seated directly across from us, was giving us his undivided attention, his facial expressions only wavering between stoney impassivity and complete contempt. The only moment his attention became diverted was when Lydia decided to give Kitty the middle finger and call her an "assface". However, the crowning moment came at the end of the night, when I caught my mother trying to slip a pair of silver salt and pepper shakers into her blouse. I'm fairly certain that both Bingley sisters noticed, but since I grabbed both shakers and put them far out of my mother's grasp, they only glared and whispered to each other, saying nothing aloud.

"Mom, are you _trying_ to get yourself arrested? Because I won't bail you out," I said under my breath.

"Oh please. No one would arrest me for something that petty in this day and age. And it's not like they'll miss it."

"I assure you, Mr. Forester's only four seats down, and he's never had a problem arresting people for theft regardless of the circumstances."

"You're my least favorite child," she muttered.

Needless to say, by the time the dinner was over, I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor and never have to associate with the majority of my family again. Walking away from Netherfield Road and back to our house was more of a relief than I cared to admit.

* * *

With the warmer spring weather we'd been having, Jane, Kitty, and I had decided to start preparing a large rectangle of land in our yard to plant vegetables in. Charlotte had offered to help us, and we'd finished staking out the corners and had begun the task of aerating the soil, digging a foot down and turning the dirt over. It was beginning to get dark and the end was finally in sight when my mother called us all in for dinner.

"You guys go ahead, I'm going to finish this. Just don't let Collins eat my portion this time," I said, as Jane, Kitty, and Charlotte began walking towards the house.

"You too Lizzie!" my mom yelled, when she noticed I was still digging.

"Mom, we're almost done, I just need-"

"NOW!"

I sighed. Maybe if I hurried through dinner it would still be light enough to finish. I got up, dusted off my jeans, and walked in to the house. Lydia and my mom had made Hodgepodge soup, which is basically a nice name for a soup using whatever ingredients you have lying around. Tonight it was beef, potatoes, and dried veggies we'd saved through the winter. Collins hadn't tried his soup yet, but was staring at me intently. So was my mother. I frowned and took a spoonful of soup.

"_Oh my god_. What did you put in this? Are you trying to kill me?!" Lydia coughed and spat something out in to her hand, "What the hell?" She held up a a gaudy silver ring, giant purple stone in the middle and completely covered in beef and saliva.

"Oh, Lydia honey, that wasn't supposed to be in _your_ bowl… give it here," my mom said, and grabbed it from her. She quickly wiped it off on her pants and handed it to Collins. "Girls, can I see you all in the kitchen? I have something I want to discuss with you. You too Frank."

Everyone stood up, completely confused.

"Not you Lizzie. Collins has something he wants to discuss with you,"

"That doesn't mean anyone has to leave-"

"No, Lizzie. This is a very private matter." She was winking at the rest of my family so rapidly that it looked like she was having a seizure. Charlotte and my sisters got up and started walking to the kitchen without so much as a backwards glance.

"Jane!" I hissed.

When she turned around, I could see that she was trying not to laugh. Then she kept walking.

"Traitor," I muttered under my breath.

My dad was still standing at his chair, seemingly torn between staying and going, but amused at either prospect. After a moment he decided leaving was the better choice.

My mother patted my cheek. "Now Lizzie, just listen. And think about _all_ of us." And then she left me alone with the stringy-haired mouth-breathing crystal-worshipping moron. Clearing his throat, he stumbled down on one knee, romantically offering the ring to me as though it hadn't nearly just gone down my sister's esophagus.

"I'm not sure I would have liked you as much if I hadn't seen how attached you are to your family, but having seen it, I think you might be almost as family-connected as I am. I doubt what I'm about to say will surprise you, but you should know that as soon as I entered your house, I could feel our souls desperately calling out to one another. And Ms. DeBourgh once informed me that a Leo, like yourself and a Sagittarius, such as myself are perfect astrological partners."

I opened my mouth to tell him that I was definitely not a Leo, but he kept rambling.

"She thinks, and I agree with her, that in order to gain more acceptance from the female portion of my followers that I should get married. And I think being married will make me very happy. Ms. DeBourgh recommended that I pick someone who is useful and who can live off of very little- I think you'll like her a lot. So long as you aren't as talkative and you do what you're told, I think she'll like you. I know you have nothing to offer me, but I promise that I will never resent you for it when we're married."

"Collins, I haven't agreed to marry you. Thank you for your _very_ generous offer, but I'm afraid my answer is no." The proposal would have been almost funny... if it wasn't happening to me.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Girls like you like to play hard to get. That's okay. I know that whatever I feel will sink into my subconscious mind and it will eventually come to pass."

"Collins I have no intention of marrying you. Ever."

"You don't mean that. I have already seen our wedding take place in one of my visions. And besides, I'm a once in a life time opportunity. I have my own house, a steady living thanks to Ms. DeBourgh, and you can't possibly expect another offer like this to come along. And when we're married, you're going to have to change your tone of voice. Ms. DeBourgh doesn't appreciate such forceful language."

It seemed I had one of two choices. Physical violence, while very appealing, was not my best option. It clearly didn't matter what I said to Collins, the word 'no' was not in his vocabulary, so I picked option two and exited the dining room. My mother was waiting by the door.

"Congratulations honey, you are going to make each other very happy," she was smiling so big it made my cheeks hurt with empathy pain. Her face fell a little when she saw I wasn't returning her smile. "I know he's probably not exactly what you were hoping for, but it's in everyone's best interest. Oh, we'll all have to find new dresses for the wedding! And I can't wait to brag to Mrs. Long; one daughter getting married, and one about to be engaged!"

Maybe I should have corrected her, but I was so pissed she put me in the position of having to listen to Collin's proposal that I walked right by her, went straight up the stairs to my room, and slammed the door. Then I heard all hell break loose downstairs.

* * *

I stayed in my bedroom the following morning. And avoided everyone the next day as well. Though my father had no qualms about me rejecting Collins, my mother was giving me the silent treatment. No great loss there. Collins had disappeared, and Jane told me that Charlotte had invited him to spend a couple days with her and her family. I made a mental note to thank her profusely the next time I saw her for getting him out of the way for a while. Unsure of when he'd return, I decided to make myself scarce. I had promised Will I'd be by to let him check my hand, and I wanted to get a couple hours of salvage in.

It was bright and warm and beautiful out, and despite all the craziness going on at home, I felt somewhat lighthearted. Even going to Netherfield didn't seem like such an imposition. There was a van parked outside the house when I arrived, and Louisa was busy filling it with suitcases.

"Going somewhere?" I asked as Louisa groaned, pushing a heavy bag into the back of the van.

"Huh? Oh, not me. Uh, Caroline, Charlie, and Will have some quick business that needs to be taken care of in New London," Louisa looked a bit startled to see me.

"Wow. You guys don't pack light," I said, eyeing the massive amount of luggage.

"Well, you know Caroline," she laughed nervously.

Charlie was nowhere to be found, but Will was in the guest room he'd been staying in. The door was already open, so I knocked lightly on the door frame to get his attention. He turned his head and upon seeing me nearly dropped the stack of books he'd been packing on to the floor.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just coming by to let you check my hand, as promised."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I just wasn't expecting… please, sit," he gestured to his bed, grabbed his medical kit from under his desk and sat down beside me. He pulled out a small pair of scissors and sliced my bandages in half. Gently taking my hand in his, he inspected my wound. I tried to ignore how warm his fingers felt against my skin.

"It's healed up well. I'll take the stitches out, it'll just take a minute." He doused a pair of tweezers and my cut liberally in alcohol, and began painstakingly cutting and pulling each stitch out.

"So you have important business in New London I hear," I winced as he pulled on a stitch.

"Yes."

"Are you going to be gone for long?"

"Depends."

"Depends on what?" I asked crisply.

"How long it takes."

I guess we're back to stoic, non-talkative Will. Fine by me. He can stay in New London for all I care, especially if Caroline stays there with him. Maybe he really was engaged to his cousin... it would at least explain the awkward and chilly reception after our excursion the other night.

He finished pulling the stitches out, wiped a bit more alcohol on the healing cut, and rewrapped it in a clean bandage.

"I suppose I'll see you guys when you get back," I said.

Will was still holding my hand, distracted and frowning slightly. He suddenly let go, stood up, and threw his tools back into his kit.

"Did Charlie tell Jane he was taking a trip? I don't remember her saying anything to me about it," I asked.

He shrugged. "I have no idea. I'll see you around though," he said as he returned to his packing.

"Thanks for checking on my hand," I said as I exited his room. He didn't look up as I left, and I almost slammed into Caroline in the hallway.

"Oh Eliza! You're just the person I wanted to see! I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Jane, so could you give this to her? We're leaving in an hour and I wasn't sure I'd have time to have it delivered, but here you are! Like my own personal mailman," she said, looking a bit smug. She pulled an envelope out of her back pocket.

"Sure," I said, taking the letter, "and have a safe trip." _Or get stuck in a ditch and eaten by a wild pack of dogs._

"Thanks dear. It's been fun."

_Wish I could say the same_, I thought as I smiled at her. Good riddance.

* * *

I left Netherfield and headed east, in the direction of the section of houses I'd been gutting lately. For the past few years that I've been salvaging and deconstructing houses, I've started with the ones closest to mine and moved outward, away from Meryton. Nobody can live too far from town without a car or some form of transportation, so it's becoming a wasteland. They used to look like normal neighborhoods, albeit with slightly overgrown lawns and no upkeep, but they've morphed into something unrecognizable and quite frankly, it's scary.

The house I'm working on currently would be the perfect set for a horror movie… broken windows, torn and missing wooden siding, and copious amounts of red spray-painted profanity and drawings. I might have avoided the house entirely if it hadn't been for the sheer size of it; a big house means tons of steel piping, wire, nails, lots of resources. A huge red cartoon bunny leered at me as I entered.

I'd already cleaned out the bottom floor, and I spent the next three hours working on the front bedroom on the second floor, pulling copper wiring out of the walls and using a screwdriver to remove all the screws that held the tracking for one of the giant closets in place. The room was bare except for a large wooden bed frame with a dirty mattress and the closet doors I had laid against one of the walls. A dingy crayon drawing of a dinosaur was taped to one of the walls, and I idly wondered who the room used to belong to.

I heard muffled laughter from outside, and I cautiously peered through the rectangle where a window used to be, overlooking the front yard. In the dimming light, two large figures were supporting another figure between them, heading straight up the driveway to the house I was occupying. Shit.

I threw my tools and the screws into my bag and shoved it under the bed. The door downstairs banged open.

"Christ, that was too close for comfort!"

"I told you we should have waited until later!"

"No, there's too many guards on the fence at night. Twilight should have been perfect."

"Yeah, great job with that plan. Do a sweep of the house, Cam."

"Seriously? No one's here."

"What? Are you psychic? Do a fucking sweep. I'm going to try to get this bullet out of Chad's leg."

"Fine."

I heard the safety of a handgun click off, and then footsteps and doors swinging open downstairs. When I heard the floorboards on the stairs begin to creak, I crawled under the bed and held my breath. My heart was beating so loudly I could almost hear it. "Cam" kicked the door to the bedroom open, and I saw the silhouettes of two heavy boots cross the floor. He whistled through his teeth, and I thought for a split second that he could see me. "Geo, there's a bed up here. Bring Chad up." Then under his breath he muttered, "and let him bleed out in comfort."

I panicked. These were definitely not people to be messing with, and there was no way I could get out without being noticed if someone was in the room. I slowly reached into my bag, trying to feel my army knife. My odds of getting out weren't great, but there was no way I'd be going down without doing some damage first. My fingers closed around the handle.

"You think I can just carry him up there? Get down here and help me," the man downstairs yelled. Cam swore and started walking down the stairs.

I slid out from under the bed, grabbing my pack and looking around wildly. The roof of the porch sat just under the empty window frame, and I crawled out just as I heard the three men start to make their way up the stairs. I pressed myself up against the siding, and crept along the roofline until I came to the end. Kneeling and holding on to the edge of the roof, I lowered myself down until my feet touched the railing below. I wrapped my hands around a pillar, and softly jumped the rest of the way to the ground, walking as quietly as I could until I got a safe distance away.

Then I broke in to a flat out sprint.


	9. Chapter Nine

"Lizzie, are you sure you're okay?"

My sister was looking at me anxiously again.

"Jane, I'm fine, really! It's just been a long day and I'm pretty exhausted," I said, attempting to steady my still trembling hands and trying my best to sound convincing. There was no way I was about to tell my sister I had almost been murdered by thieves in a decrepit old house. She'd be an anxious wreck and demand to come with me to all my jobs. Though, thinking on it now, that might not be a terrible idea… I could probably use a lookout. "I almost forgot! I ran in to Caroline, and she asked me to pass this along to you," I pulled Caroline's letter out of my pack and handed it to Jane, "Did you know they were leaving for a few days?"

"Who? Caroline and Louisa? No, I didn't." Jane opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She began reading the contents.

"No, Caroline, Will, and Charlie," I frowned, "maybe I misheard though. I don't think Charlie would leave without telling you." I waited for Jane to agree with me, but she was still looking at the note in her hand. "Jane?"

"What? Oh, no I guess you heard right," Jane looked pale. She bit her lip, and handed me the note. In giant bubbly cursive, Caroline had written:

_Jane,_

_It's been fun doll! But Charlie, Will, and I headed to New London. It will be a long time before we're back, if we're back at all, but don't worry! Louisa's staying to take care of the house and crops! Also doesn't hurt that she met some hottie named Hurst- do you know him? Darcy is very impatient to see his sister again (Though Charlie might be even more impatient to see her, haha!) I can safely say that you're the only thing I'll miss about Meryton!_

_xoxo_

_Caroline_

"Jane, I can't imagine that Charlie would just leave without telling you and then not come back! I'm sure Caroline has it wrong." I folded the note and handed it back to her.

"It just seems so definitive… and what about the comment about Will's sister?"

"She's being a bitch Jane. It's what she's good at."

"Lizzie! She wouldn't say it to be mean! I think she's trying to warn me that Charlie might not…" she trailed off.

"Might not what? Have feelings for you? He does, Jane! I've seen it! No man acts like that around someone he's not attached to! This has Caroline's fingerprints all over it! She hates our family, she hates this town, and now she's getting what she wants."

"Maybe she just has the wrong idea about it... I can't imagine her being so mean. Ugh… just don't tell mom Charlie left. I don't think I can bear her talking about for the next six months."

"Six months? I'd be willing to bet that it'll be more like six days before he's-" I was interrupted by Charlotte knocking on my bedroom door. I squeezed Jane's hand. "It will be fine, I promise!"

Jane gave me a worried smile and left as Charlotte came in.

"Everything okay?" Charlotte asked, watching Jane close the door to her bedroom.

"Yeah... boy trouble. Or lack-of-boy trouble. Or boy's sibling trouble. Too early to tell really. And speaking of boy trouble, I hear I owe you a bottle of Mary King's poorly made wine as payment for removing one William Collins from the house."

"No, you don't. And anyway, it kind of worked out in my favor," she said, glancing down at her hands.

My eyes widened when I saw the ill-fitting ugly silver ring with the purple stone on her left hand. "Char, you really shouldn't be leading Collins on. Even when you're telling him you have no interest in him, he still thinks you're fair game. You wear that ring, he's going to have some lofty ideas about how you feel about him," I chided.

Charlotte winced and studied her feet. "I'm not leading him on Lizzie."

I laughed heartily, "That's funny, Charlotte. Maybe you should start up a theater troupe… I _almost_ believed you, and I know for a fact that you're not serious."

"What if I am serious? What if I'm completely sick and tired of being scared about the future? Maybe I want to know that a few years down the road I'll still have a roof over my head and my family won't have starved to death. Is that so hard to believe Lizzie? Or do you think I shouldn't take your rejects?"

"You are serious..." I felt my stomach drop. Charlotte nodded.

"Char, for starters, he asked me to marry him TWO DAYS ago. Do you really think he's had such a change in heart that he's fallen in love with you that quickly? And besides, he's ridiculous! How could you be willing to spend the rest of your life with someone like that?"

She smiled sadly. "Lizzie, I'm not like you. You want the butterflies and the moonlit walks or nothing at all. I just want stability and peace of mind, and that's exactly what Collins is offering me."

I wanted to be happy for her, I really did. But it seemed like such a waste. Intelligent, funny, quirky Charlotte wasted on an idiot who cared far too much what other people thought of him, and who certainly thought too much of himself. It felt so wrong. And she'd be leaving Meryton with him, so I'd hardly ever get to see her.

I'm sure she could see my warring thoughts on my face, but I pushed them aside and embraced her. "I'm sorry, Char. I want to see you happy."

"He's not exactly my dream man, but it's okay. It's a good situation to be in."

I cracked a smile, "You know it's not too late for us to run away together- don't underestimate the power of a non-romantic domestic partnership! And we could kidnap Jane. We could make her our cooking wench."

Charlotte grinned, "Only if she can figure out how to make chocolate chip cookies."

* * *

If I hadn't known better, I would have thought Collins and Charlotte were having a shotgun wedding. Though I knew it was more about convenience than a need to marry quickly, it didn't stop other people from gossiping about the speed of it. It took place a mere eight days after they announced their engagement, with little fanfare and even fewer guests. Without the luxury of personalized invitations, famous DJs, and custom dyed bridesmaid shoes I shouldn't have been surprised at how quickly the wedding was pulled off, but I couldn't help but feel waylaid by the whole affair. They left for Collin's house right after the wedding, and I promised Charlotte that I'd write her often and visit her as soon as I could manage.

Weeks passed, and the cool wet spring we'd been having quickly turned in to a hot sticky summer. Occasionally I'd walk by Netherfield, but never with Jane, and I wouldn't mention I'd been past. But the corn was almost at thigh level and the spring wheat was turning from pale green to a golden brown, and Charlie hadn't returned even once.

The only mention I'd heard of him was from Louisa who would occasionally show up at the market. I'd only spoken to her once, and she had confirmed that Will, Charlie, and Caroline would be staying in New London for the season and had no intentions of returning to or even visiting Netherfield. Jane, despite her protestations that she was perfectly happy, was depressed and listless. Most days I would force her to come along with me, just to get her out of the house. But it seemed that everything around Meryton reminded her of Charlie and made her completely miserable. I missed the days where we could binge on chocolate ice cream and stick some ridiculous comedies into our DVD player. And we both missed Charlotte.

Jane needed a change of scene. And I still was unconvinced that Charlie had much to do with the "important business" that took him out of Meryton. Perhaps all he needed was a chance meeting with her to jog his memory…

It occurred to me that my Aunt Meg and Uncle Ed were about to work a job down in New London. My uncle was a skilled carpenter and could work anywhere he wanted for fairly high compensation. After going from being parents to being childless, they decided to pull up their roots and go where the best paid work was. They lived out of their van while they traveled around the New England area in the warmer months, usually staying and eating with the families they were working for. When the job was up, they'd pack up their van and move to their next job location, sometimes even taking passengers to offset the high cost of fuel. They'd been contracted to work in New London for a few months helping to reinforce the Coast Guard Station after a few hurricanes had caused some serious damage to its structure. The New London port was one of the only remaining ports in the New England area; without it, international travel and trade would be almost impossible. It was sure to be a well paying job.

Since my aunt and uncle were like our second parents, I knew that when I wrote to them and asked for their help with Jane, they would do anything they could. And they did. I heard back from them a week and a half later that they'd be delighted for her to visit, and made plans to pick Jane up on their way down to New London. Once the job was be over, they would drive her back to Meryton on the way to whatever their next job was. Jane brightened a bit at the prospect of seeing our extended family, and I felt better than I had in weeks seeing the smile on her face. It also didn't hurt that I'd get to spend a day or two with my aunt and uncle before they all left.

They arrived mid morning, bringing with them books for me and Jane, and a couple pretty summer dresses for Kitty and Lydia. While my uncle and mother were catching up and my younger sisters were modeling their new clothing, I convinced my aunt to go for a walk with me and meet George. I was interested in her opinion of him. He was as amiable towards her as he was to everyone, and I was happy to hear that she liked him. She mentioned wanting to see the house on Netherfield that Jane had talked so much about, and as we walked over, George related to her the story of his ejection from Will's complex. It felt like a little too much information to be telling a near stranger, but I supposed that George had faced enough judgement in his life so I didn't dwell on it.

"You like him, don't you?" she asked, as we were walking back home.

"I think I do."

"You seem a little hesitant," Aunt Meg gave me that all-knowing mother look.

"No. Well, yes. A little. I'm having trouble deciding really."

"Lizzie, that's your answer, right there. You shouldn't have to wonder about it. He seems like a nice guy, but if you're not positive then he's probably not for you. Terrible what happened to him though."

"No kidding. Though sometimes I get a little tired of bring invited to his pity party. I know it's awful, but there's not much point to constantly bringing up how you were wronged by someone to everyone you meet."

"Very true. When did you become such a wise adult?" she said affectionally and wrapped her arm around me.

"You've been telling me that I act like a forty year old man since I was five," I laughed.

A few weeks after Jane and company left for New London, I was off to Hunsford to visit Charlotte. I'd been saving up resources all summer to get the rest of our family by for the few weeks I'd be gone, so long as they rationed themselves. The alcohol from the piano teacher's house proved to be profitable enough to obtain a roundtrip ticket to Hunsford and enough grain to last two months. And the vegetables in our garden were growing in rapidly. Realistically, we had enough to get us by for months, and I crossed my fingers that my family would be careful with it.

* * *

My car ride to Hunsford was uneventful, though my headache would disagree. Frost-heaves and pot holes made the journey particularly jolting, and the driver never went over thirty miles an hour for fear of blowing out the tires or damaging the undercarriage. But it was worth to see Charlotte waiting at the station with a big smile and open arms. As we laughed and caught up with each other, she helped me carry my belongings down the road to the complex where she lived.

Rosing's Park was a tiny gated community in the heart of Hunsford, New York. While the rest of Hunsford wasn't faring particularly well, Rosings appeared to be doing quite the opposite. As we walked through the main gates, I could immediately see the difference between the greying and dingy exteriors of Hunsford houses, and the well kept ones inside.

Collins house was a two story cookie-cutter "neoclassical" building, complete with a stone walkway and a white picket fence. Even the lawn was tidy, and Charlotte informed me that Ms. DeBourgh insisted on them keeping the lawn trimmed with a mechanical grass cutter. Collins was inside when I arrived, and was practically falling over himself to give me a tour. He never said it, but it seemed as though he was repeating the mantra "this is what you could have had" each time he showed me a another room in his house. I just smiled and hoped that Charlotte was getting some satisfaction out of her living arrangement.

We made small talk for a little while, and I tried to be as polite as I could. Eventually, Collins ran out of things to brag about and excused himself, leaving Charlotte and I blissfully alone. She showed me to the guest room, and I decided to take a short nap before unpacking. I was still rubbing the sleep out of me eyes and debating hanging my clothes in the closet or folding them in the dresser when I heard Charlotte call out from the living room.

"Lizzie! Come downstairs!"

"What on earth is going on?"

I hurried down the stairs and Charlotte pointed outside to Collins. He had been in the middle of trimming the lawn, but was now talking with an irritated looking girl holding on to the arm of an older woman. I peeked through the curtains, trying not to be too obvious that we were staring at them.

"Who is she?"

"That's Anne DeBourgh!"

"And Catherine?" I squinted at the older woman.

"Hah! Definitely not, that's Anne's nurse."

"She needs a nurse?" I studied her closely, the pinched expression, the pale lips and dark under eye circles, the way she rolled her eyes and yawned when Collins wasn't looking, "Oh Char, she's perfect!" I laughed.

"Perfect? Gotta say Liz, that's not the first adjective I would pick to describe her."

"Yes, she's perfect... she looks completely pissed off and sick. I couldn't have dreamed up a better wife for him." I said, smiling.

"Wife for who?"

"Will. According to George, they're engaged."

"Eww Lizzie, I'd take anything you hear from George with a grain of salt. I can't imagine very many people willing to marry their cousins," she grimaced, "especially cousins like Anne DeBourgh."

At length, Anne and her nurse continued their walk, and Collins came bounding back in through the door. "CHARLOTTE! CHARLOTTE!" he yelled, realizing too late that we were both standing only a few feet away from him. "There you are! We are invited to dinner with the DeBourghs tonight! It is a full moon, and Catherine thought it would be very auspicious to have a gathering!"

As Collins leapt up the stairs two at a time to go change his shirt, I smirked at Charlotte. "I'm glad we're invited. I would be so disappointed if I spent a few weeks here and was never able to meet this illusive Catherine DeBourgh I keep hearing about. Is she as monstrous as everyone seems to think?"

Charlotte grinned, "You think I'd ruin the surprise?"

I was only surprised how close my imaginings of Catherine were to the actual thing. She was immaculately dressed, about fifty, with cold blue eyes and greying gold hair pulled back into a frightening tight bun. It had been at least a few years since her last face lift, but the tell tale over tightened skin and inability to make much of an expression were proof enough of a some cosmetic surgery in the past. She was sitting next to Anne, who didn't speak but watched and listened to everyone with all the grace of a sullen teenager. Catherine invited us to sit on her couch and poured us glasses of her "famous" lemonade, and dutifully informed us of the difficulty to get lemons nowadays.

"So you're from Meryton I hear? Isn't the entire town starting to fall apart?" Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Charlotte, "I'm glad you got out of there, I can't understand why people insist on staying somewhere when there's no help for it." She eyed me again. "Did you go to college?"

"For a few years."

"Just a few? Why on earth didn't you finish?" It looked like she was trying to frown, but she only managed to make her mouth tighten in a straight line.

"The community college I was going to closed two years after I started." I took a sip of the lemonade and tried not to grimace at how sour it was.

"Why didn't you transfer to a private college? They stayed open much longer."

"We couldn't afford it," I shrugged.

"And what about the rest of your siblings? Did they finish school?"

"My older sister was a year away from graduating with a business degree, but my younger sisters never had the chance to even finish high school."

"You must regret your present situation very much. No education, little means of income. Yes, I'd say anyone in your shoes couldn't be very happy at all." She was watching me closely, the way a hawk does before he swoops down and snatches up a field mouse for his lunch.

"On the contrary, I think in a way, it's brought my family closer together. It hasn't been easy but there's something very satisfying about being able to take care of yourself and your loved ones in the face of adversity. I'd say there are many people in Meryton that feel the same way."

Catherine looked at me as though no one had ever dared contradict her opinion before. Collins looked uncomfortable and Charlotte looked as though she were trying desperately not to find it amusing.

I was saved from further interrogation when the door to the living room opened and two men walked in, one with a medium build and light brown hair, the other tall with dark hair and… oh. Will Darcy. My glass nearly slipped out of my hand, and I put it down on a coaster on the coffee table. He didn't see me, and strolled over to his aunt with his companion.

"There you two are! I would have thought you'd have been here hours ago! Was something wrong with your car?" Catherine spoke sharply.

"No, Aunt, we just got a later start than we would have liked. We didn't miss your delicious crab cakes, did we?" the man with Will dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.

"I shouldn't let you have any for being so late." She pointed for the two men to sit next to her. Both took a seat, and then Will noticed me. His lips parted and he blinked a few times, before he reigned in his surprise and settled back into his default look of contempt.

"These are my nephews, Richard and William. You've all met Collins, and this is his new wife Charlotte and her friend from Meryton, Elizabeth."

Richards eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Will, who refused to look at him. I wondered if Richard had heard about Collins quick marriage to Charlotte, or worse, Will had said something about our salvaging incident in Meryton.

I managed to avoid further conversation with "Aunt Catherine" and listened to her discussions with Collins and her nephews until the cook called us for dinner. Though I went to sit down next to Charlotte, Catherine insisted that I sit between Will and Richard, muttering something about balancing genders at the table. Anne, Collins, and Charlotte sat across from us, and Catherine sat at the head. I noticed that Will treated Anne with the same indifference he seemed to show everyone, and wondered what their engagement status really was.

The food itself, unsurprisingly, was excellent. Catherine's cook was very talented and made several gourmet seafood dishes. I watched with amusement as Catherine practically told everyone how much they should eat of each dish, and in what order. Collins was the only one to follow her dictation. Anne was even more monosyllabic than Will, if that was possible. She let her mother do most of the talking for her, and I found myself actually pitying her role as Catherine's domineered daughter. No wonder she looked so grumpy.

"How is your family?" Will asked quietly, as he subtly wrinkled his nose and passed a dish of shrimp.

"They're well, thank you. Jane has actually been in New London for the past few months... you didn't run in to her?" I knew he hadn't, but I wanted to see if his reaction would help me better understand why Charlie had left.

"No, I didn't." _That was unenlightening._

"How are Charlie and Caroline?" I asked, finishing the last bite of my chestnut crusted haddock.

"They're very well."

"Are they planning on returning to Netherfield? Louisa seems to think not, but I thought with the harvest coming up that Charlie at least would want to oversee it."

"He's been very busy working on the business aspect of the farming. He has produce buyers in New London and Groton and is trying to broker a few more deals before harvest. There's nothing he can do at Netherfield that can't be done by Louisa."

Richard put his elbows on the table and leaned near me. "Did you have a good trip here? I'm sure whatever company you had was better than what I had to endure the whole ride up. My cousin never stops complaining unless you let him drive, and when you do let him drive he never goes over twenty five and breaks to a stop every time he sees a pot hole or a downed branch," he grinned.

I laughed, "I did have good trip. No flat tires, no terrible travel-mates. It was a breeze, really. And Charlotte will be the one making the trip next time, so I don't have much to complain about."

"It must be nice for Charlotte to have settled so close to her family," Will commented.

"Close? It's over a hundred miles..." I said incredulously.

"That's a very short distance by car."

"And if you don't have a car? Not all of us are so fortunate as to have their own means of transportation."

Will had the grace to blush a little. "Circumstances can always change Miss Bennet. Besides, I think you'd consider anything further than a few miles as being far away from your sister," he said with a hint of a smile.

Interesting. I still had no idea why Charlie left, but I considered it a good sign if Will was mentioning my sister and the short distance to Netherfield while on the topic of marriage. Perhaps Charlie was planning on coming back after all.

"I don't mean that a person should have live in the same town as their family to be able to call it close by. If you have a car, or enough income to afford to travel, it wouldn't be a problem. But Charlotte doesn't have a car, and can only afford to occasionally go home, so it's not exactly "close" for her."

Will leaned towards me, "I don't think _you_ would mind not being close by the rest of your family."

I turned my head sharply to look at him. _What did this have to do with me?_

Richard butted back into the conversation. "How do you like Hunsford? Darce and I used to occasionally spend our summers here as kids. I have some great stories about him skinny di-"

"Richard!" Catherine interjected from the head of the table, "I won't have you talking about such things at the dinner table! Since you were late, you can help the cook clear the table. And if you behave, you can have dessert with us when you're finished."

Richard looked outraged, "Will was just as late as I was!"

"Yes, but he kept his elbows off the table. You know I hate bad table manners."

Richard shook his head at Will. "You get everything, and I'm left with dirty dishes and no dessert," he said dramatically.

Will laughed, then ducked his head and whispered, "I think you might have the better end of the deal. The after dinner conversation will be much less obnoxious in the kitchen."

"True. Tell you what, if I need someone to tie the bows on my apron or dry the dishes like an OCD June Cleaver I'll give you a call." Richard stood up before Will could respond, and with a wink at me grabbed a few plates and ran off towards the kitchen.


	10. Chapter Ten

"So you've seen Georgiana recently? How has my darling niece been?" Catherine asked, as we sat on her couches and were served hot tea and honeyed biscuits by an overly attentive housekeeper.

"She's well. She visited us in New London," Will said, taking the mug of tea that was being forced into his hands, and putting it directly on the coffee table. The housekeeper looked distressed at his disinterest, and quickly shoved a coaster underneath his beverage before withdrawing from the room.

"And is she still playing piano?"

"Yes, she gets better every time I hear her. Elizabeth helped me acquire some more sheet music for her while we were in Meryton, and she's already learned to play half of them." Will was tapping his fingers on his leg and not meeting my eyes, and I wondered if he was thinking about our kiss.

"Do you play Miss Bennet?" Catherine asked.

"Not if I can help it," I said, smiling so I wouldn't offend her. I honestly didn't care what she thought of me, but I didn't want Charlotte to face any difficulties with her on my account.

"Nonsense. You will play for us," she demanded.

"No, really Ms. DeBourgh, it's been years since…" I trailed off as I watched her expression darken, "but I suppose I could see if there's something I could remember…" I stood and walked to the piano in the other room, fairly certain that this was more of a ploy to get me out of the room than to have musical entertainment. I took a deep breath, sat down, and attempted to play one of my favorites.

After a few minutes of getting my bearings and a few minutes of playing, I could feel a presence behind me. Richard, wiping his damp hands on a dish rag, sat down on the other side of the piano bench. He tossed the damp cloth on top of the piano and I wondered how long it would take for his aunt to notice and begin berating him.

"Now that is a very appropriate song for an occasion like this," he grinned, "Pixies, right? _Where Is My Mind_? Sneaky. That's exactly what I wonder every time I make the decision to visit Aunt Catherine."

"Ha, you caught me. Don't tell me it's this bad every time you visit her," I laughed.

"This is nothing. If the cook gets sick or no one is here to heat the hot water for her bath, she's like an angry bull at a flag factory. It's awful to watch. Or amusing, so long as you aren't her target."

"I can imagine. But I don't suppose you would ever be on her hit list. You're family."

He sighed dramatically and put his hand on his heart, "If only that were the case, Lizzie, if only that were the case."

I grinned. "What have you done to incur her wrath?"

"You mean besides putting my elbows on the table and showing up late to dinner functions, ruining them beyond repair? I once burned a large portion of her wardrobe."

"You did _what_? Why?" I struggled to contain my laughter.

"In my defense, I was drunk and going through a very strong anti-fur phase. Anne and Darcy tried to stop me, but those coats were so old that they caught like tinder and melted into little balls of plastic. I think Catherine was more pissed that we found out they were all fake."

"And how long did it take for her to forgive you?" I asked, laughing wholeheartedly now.

"Come to think of it, I'm not sure she has. Maybe we should ask her?"

I grabbed his arm as he stood up, devious look on his face. "Not a good idea. Wait until I leave, then you can let the bloodbath begin and tell me all about it in the morning."

"Smart girl. I guess everything I heard about you is true," he said, sitting back down, and waving hello to Will who was glaring daggers in our direction.

"What exactly did you hear about me? And more importantly, who did you hear it from? Because if it was Will, I'm not sure that's entirely fair since he doesn't like me. You can see he's scowling at me from the other room."

Rich laughed, "I'm pretty sure that look is intended for me. He does that whenever I'm getting on his nerves."

"But you're just sitting over here," I pointed out, "It's far more likely that he hates my playing. Or he's just annoyed that I'm at Rosings."

Richard bit back a smile but didn't say anything.

After another minute of playing, the man in question joined us, silently looming over the piano. It was extremely difficult to concentrate, but I was determined not to let him bother me. "Are you trying to scare me Will? Because I promise it won't work, even if your sister is a musical genius. I'm far too stubborn to let anyone intimidate me."

"Come on, I know you don't believe I'm trying to scare you," he said glancing at Richard, "She does this all the time. She enjoys making up people's intentions more than saying what she actually thinks of them."

I chuckled at Will's comment, "Thanks a lot, Darcy. Now your cousin isn't going to believe anything I say," I turned to Richard. "But since Will has unkindly decided to expose my secret identity, I can retaliate with some very terrible stories about him when he came to Meryton."

Will smiled at me, "I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be," I narrowed my eyes at him.

Richard was beside himself in anticipation, " Yes! I want every detail!"

"Prepare yourself, Richard. It was dreadful. The first time I ever saw Will was at the marketplace in Meryton, and what do you think he did the whole time?" I raised my eyebrows at Richard who smirked and shrugged and urged me to continue. "He stood around, looking at his shoes and practically growling at every person that got close enough to introduce themselves, even though Charlie was meeting everyone and trying to get him to join in."

"I didn't know anyone besides Charlie and his sisters," Will protested.

"Yes, I know," I said, sighing with excessive sympathy, "It's so difficult to meet people when there's so many _people_ around." I turned to Richard, "Do you know any songs? I'm not sure I know any more off the top of my head."

"Maybe you would have thought better of me if I had introduced myself, but it's difficult for me to make new acquaintances."

"Why do you think your cousin, who happened to be the one of the most educated and well-travelled men in the room, wouldn't excel at meeting new people?" I tapped out the Jeopardy theme and looked at Richard.

"Hmmm, okay Trebek, I believe the answer is: 'What is one thing that Will Darcy doesn't want to be bothered doing?'" Richard cheekily grinned at Will, who shot a dirty look at his cousin.

"Unlike _some_ of my family members, I'm very uncomfortable talking with strangers. Even when I do push myself to talk with someone I don't know, they seem to think that I'm uninterested or I end up talking about things they don't care about."

"Unlike some of _your_ family members, I kind of suck at playing this piano. But I would say that it's my fault, since it's been about ten years since I've bothered to practice. Potentially, my fingers could be just as skilled as Motzart's."

Will smiled a little, "You're right. Though, to be fair, you play well enough that I doubt anyone would think you didn't practice."

Ms. DeBourgh, catching only the last snippet of Will's observation, interjected from the other room, "Yes, it does sound like you didn't practice. You can come over anytime you want and improve your playing. There's another piano in the basement, so we won't hear you when you're down there."

Will and Richard looked at each other, Richard smirking and Will rolling his eyes.

"I think I am going to go remind her about the fur coats..." Richard said, standing up again.

"NO!" Will and I spoke simultaneously, and Will put his hands on Richards shoulders, forcing him to sit.

"Well, at least you both agree about something," Rich said with a laugh.

* * *

The majority of nights were spent dining at the DeBourghs, and every morning, Charlotte attended Collin's daily spiritual activities at Catherine's house. I had no desire for yoga or meditation with crystals, so most mornings I was at loose ends. I had brought books with me, but the warm breeze wafting through the curtains called me outdoors more often than not. After a few days of exploring, I found an overgrown jogging trail outside the confines of Rosings. Though unkempt, the creeping vines and encroaching foliage only added to the wild beauty of the crumbling asphalt pathway. And a few miles out, the trail looped by a wide stream that was deep enough to swim in. I began a morning routine of running before breakfast, beating most of the direct sun and high heat. It was a quick run from the house to the gate, and then a leisurely jog to the trail and onwards.

One morning after a few weeks at Rosings, I woke up already sticky and overly warm, and I could tell it was going to be scorching before it reached noon. Though I left the house shortly after getting up, it was boiling hot and extremely humid by the time I hit my turn around point at the stream. I crouched down by the stream and splashed water on my face, relishing the cool temperature of the water. It looked so inviting, and I decided to swim for a while before I headed back to the house. Stripping off everything but my undergarments, I dropped my shoes and clothing on top of a slab of rock and stepped in to the water. Goosebumps prickled up my legs, but the temperature was instant relief from the heat. I walked to the center of the stream, and let my whole body sink under.

I surfaced and lay back in the water, listening to the sounds of birds and the wind and enjoying the feeling of the current flowing around me. The sound of a branch snapping suddenly sent my adrenaline into high gear. Panicked, I stood and rushed to where I had left my clothing, all the while looking for the source of the sound. Relief then annoyance washed over me when I realized it was Will.

"You know, a little warning would be nice if you feel like creeping up on someone when they're alone in the woods," I grumbled as I clutched my clothing to my chest and glared at him.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were there," Will was dressed in gym shorts and an old t-shirt. He looked flushed and sweaty and his hair was a tousled mess, which irritatingly only made him more attractive.

"Yeah, well, this is the only good place to run."

"You've been running here a lot?" It didn't really sound like a question.

"Yeah, every morning. It's beautiful," I said.

"It is. I'll run back with you if you want."

Unsure of how to refuse him, I agreed. He was still staring at me, and I was steadily becoming more conscious of how little I was wearing and how the water in my hair was running in rivulets down my shoulders. I silently cursed the universe for constantly putting me in these awkward positions.

"Hey Darcy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you turn around?"

"What?"

"I'd like to get dressed without an audience."

"Oh. OH, sorry!" He turned around, and I watched the color on the back of his neck flush a shade pinker. At least I wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable.

I pulled my shirt and shorts on, and slid my feet back in to my shoes. I knotted the laces, and walked back up to the trail where Will still had his back turned. He gave me a sideways glance, "Ready?"

"Ready to beat you back," I scoffed jokingly, and began running back towards Rosings. Though I knew that Will was definitely in good shape, I wasn't expecting him to be able to keep up with me since I'd been running for years. He did, and easily. I pushed myself harder, but I couldn't lose him. He seemed to enjoy the competitiveness, and occasionally got ahead of me, forcing me to run faster in an effort to pass him. We kept up our back and forth until we reached the gates of Rosings simultaneously, exhausted and out of breath.

"See you at later?" he asked, as we walked to his Aunt Catherine's driveway.

"Yeah. I think Catherine invited us to dinner tomorrow."

"Okay," he nodded, as I left.

It happened again the next day. And the day after that. I'd start my run, and at some point I'd catch up with him, or he'd catch up with me. I didn't understand why, since I hadn't seen him at all the first weeks I'd run the path. But he didn't talk much and our competitive natures helped to make the time pass quickly while keeping up a rigorous pace. Before I knew it, we were running together almost daily, and dining together every other night at the DeBourghs.

* * *

It was the heat that was making me prickly and argumentative, I decided as Will and I began walking to cool down after our run. We had only run two thirds of what we usually ran before the heat was too intense, and in a most un-Will-like fashion, Will was being... talkative.

"But what would you do if someone came after you?"

I snorted, "Really? I don't know, but I'll go consult my street fighting handbook and get back to you."

"I'm not idly questioning you. You go alone to salvage all those houses, there's all kinds of unsavory characters out there."

"Fine, if I'm in danger, I run. Really fast." I caught Will's raised eyebrow. "Hypothetically, I'd run," I added quickly.

"And if they're faster than you, or if they catch you by surprise?"

"Haven't met anyone faster than me and nobody catches by surp-"

I was on my back in a heavy tuft of grass before I could blink, Will crouched over me, face inches from mine. One corner of his mouth curled up as he pinned my arms to my sides. "Care to finish that sentence?" he asked, dangerously soft.

To say that I was disconcerted was an understatement. Shaking off the momentary shock of what had just occurred, I wasn't too turned off of the feeling of his body against mine, but boy was I pissed he'd dropped me so easily. "The actual fuck do you think you're doing?" I growled, "Get. Off."

"Make me get off of you," he challenged.

I attempted to knee him in the stomach, but he scooted forward so my knees were helplessly straddling his waist. I managed to wrench my arms free and push at his chest, but he pressed his whole body weight downward and my arms buckled from the force. And I thought it couldn't get more awkward.

I shivered as his breath grazed my ear, "Close, love, but not quite. Lock your elbows and push at the top of my shoulders, not my chest."

The ease in which I was able to support his weight and keep him off of me was surprising.

"Now, twist one leg underneath me, put your foot against my leg… good. Drop your hands to my elbows, and pull your other leg underneath me."

Both my shins were underneath his chest, and he pulled back when pressing his weight downward yielded no results.

"And now I'm free to kick you in the face," I grinned evilly, shooting one foot upward, but stopping half an inch from Will's nose.

"Exactly," he said, as he took my arm and pulled me up off the ground.

I eyed him suspiciously. "And you couldn't have demonstrated that without throwing me into a wet pile of foliage?"

"Where would you have preferred me to throw you?" His question was loaded with insinuation.

Smug bastard, he wouldn't leave my humiliation on "that night" alone. Still, I could think of a few better places to be thrown. Several places in fact, and I had to shake my head to clear it of the abruptly graphic images that began to barge their way in. I must have been blushing scarlet. I cleared my throat and tore my gaze from him.

"Would you have been receptive to a lecture?" he asked.

"I suppose not," I answered honestly, "but you can't just… manhandle me because you have a point to prove."

"Noted. My apologies for the manhandling."

I began walking the pathway towards the house, then stopped and turned back to him. He regarded me with interest. "But maybe, if you know a few other moves, you could show me?"

"So you're asking for more manhandling."

"No! Well, yes, but just not the unexpected kind. Or the kind leaves twigs in my hair and burrs all over my clothes."

"I think that can be arranged."

As we walked back, he showed me two moves for getting out of a chokehold, the best way to escape if you're grabbed from behind, and pointed out all the weak points to take advantage of on a person's body.

"Where did you learn all these techniques? If you were secretly trained as a ninja, you're not being very stealthy if you're giving away all your best moves," I said, half-heartedly jabbing the heal of my palm to where he pointed, just below the center of his breastbone.

"That'll knock the wind out of someone if you hit hard enough," he said, straightening up and adjusting his shirt, "And you can thank my sister for my extensive knowledge on defensive techniques."

"She's the ninja?"

He grinned, "Pretty much. I hired an instructor for her a few months ago and I've been on her case about keeping up with it. My penalty is getting beat up by her all the time, but she's gotten good and I've learned most of the techniques too."

"I thought Pemberley was the gold standard in safety. Fences and security not keeping the looters out?"

His smile disappeared almost instantly, "If fences could keep out the sodding weasels who lie to your face and threaten the safety of everyone around them, she'd have no need for self-defense instructors. Sorry," he said, noticing the surprise on my face from the venomousness of his outburst, "touchy subject."

"No, I get it. I'd do anything to keep my sisters safe too," sniffing the air as we got close to DeBourghs, "What's that smell?"

"Tacos."

"Liar."

"Not lying, it's tacos. Richard insisted on them for dinner."

I could live off of tacos. In fact, there was a whole year in college where Charlotte and I pretty much did live off of tacos. Cut to several years later with nary a Taco Bell in sight, I was more than ready to divert to any tactic, wholesome or not, to be invited to dinner.

"So about these tacos..." I began.

"I suppose I'll see you at six?" Will smirked.

I broke out into a grin and raised my arms victoriously. As I skipped away, I tuned back, "And Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for knocking me over."


	11. Chapter Eleven

One morning when Will hadn't joined me, I saw a figure emerging from Catherine's house. Thinking momentarily it was Will, I jogged up to rib him over his lack of motivation, only to see that it was Richard. His face broke in to a huge grin.

"Lizzie! You coming to dinner tonight?"

"Of course I'll be there. You think I'd turn down a three course dinner and dessert? You'll be there right?"

"Most definitely! It'll probably be our last dinner, since we're leaving Friday. Unless Darcy continues to be ridiculously indecisive and puts it off again. Christ, I know you like tacos and seafood, but for the love of everything holy it'd be nice to have a meal featuring a main course that other people like occasionally" he said breezily, giving me an appraising glance, "Also, I think you should come to dinner tonight dressed like that. In fact, I think we all should dress in our beat up sneakers and sweaty t-shirts, and see if Auntie C still lets us eat dinner at the grown-ups table."

"I think we'd be lucky to get table scraps fed to us on her back deck. And besides, you and I would be the only ones willing to dress up like this," I smiled.

"Maybe not Anne or Collins, but I bet I could convince Will."

"I doubt that. Only if you could replace his entire personality with one that includes a little more humor and a lot more self-deprecation, and I think it's going to be a while before our science-fiction dreams can be made real again."

"Aw, you should give him a little more credit. Sure, he's got the charisma of an eighty year old man with an allergy to fun, but he's one of the most loyal friends I've had."

"He did seem very close with the Bingleys when they were in Meryton."

"Yeah, he'd seriously do anything for Charlie. He recently helped him ditch some girl that was trying to sink her claws in to him. Poor bugger. No one lacks more sense than a lovestruck idiot."

My stomach lurched, "What girl?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know all the details, but it she had a crazy family and nothing to live off of, or something like that."

"So he broke them up? Without any regard for their feelings?" I said, appalled, and Richard gave me a funny look. "I mean, it just sounds like a jerk move, but I guess without knowing all the facts it's hard to say," I said, reigning in my emotional outburst with a disinterested shrug.

"I'd assume she was in it for her own wellbeing, and not because she had feelings for him," Richard said, then chuckled, "but if Will did just break them up for the hell of it, I'll certainly be keeping him away from my girlfriends from now on."

"I was having a hard time processing what Richard had told me. I believed Caroline to be completely capable of messing with her brother's relationship for her own selfish gain, but Will? I had just been starting to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Lizzie? You okay?" Richard was frowning at me, "Usually this is the part where you say, 'what girlfriends, Richard'?"

"Yeah, sorry. I think I'm a little dehydrated from my run. I'm gonna go inside," I said, and walked off towards Collins' house.

I was so livid that I felt sick. How could he have done it? It's true that Charlie was extremely trusting and obviously valued Will's friendship and advice more than anyone else's, but for Will to knowingly take two people who obviously cared for each other and force them apart? I knew he could come off as kind of an impolite bastard most of the time, but this was every bit as bad as his supposed dealings with George Wickham. George must have been telling the truth afterall. I clenched my fists. I couldn't do much about it now; what was done was done, and the sooner I could be rid of Will Darcy from my life the better off I'd be. I could leave in the morning, and I'd never have to see him again.

When Charlotte returned from the DeBourgh house in the afternoon, I told her that I had a migraine and I'd be better off resting and having dinner at home.

She frowned and put her hand on my forehead, "You don't look good Lizzie, you're burning hot. Are you sure it's just a migraine? You look a little pale, and Rich said you weren't feeling well after your run."

"Don't worry Char, I'll be fine. I'll just lie down for a while, and I'm sure I'll be feeling better by the time you guys get back."

She left me with some caffeinated tea and strict instructions to relax while they were gone. Except for a little bit of packing I mostly obeyed her orders, and was feeling calmer, though no less angry than when she'd left. An hour and a half had passed and I was nestled in one of Collin's overstuffed flowery armchairs and lazily flipping through a beat up copy of _The Idiots Guide to Feng Shui_ when the front door launched open without so much as a knock, admitting one unusually disconcerted Will Darcy.

I dropped the book loudly on the coffee table and sat up. "I know society has gone downhill and all, but I think it's still the norm for people to knock before-"

"Are you okay?" Will interrupted.

"Yes..." I said slowly, trying to figure out what his game was, "It's just a headache, not Cholera."

"Right. Okay. Well, if there's anything- I mean, I hope you feel better."

I stared at him, unwilling to thank him, ask him how he was, or ask him if Rich sent him over to check on me. I just wanted him to leave.

He sat down on the couch. _Great, make yourself comfortable. Want me to get you a drink, and we'll sit back and talk about the good old days when you were only a minor asshole compared to what you are now?_

He stood up again and began pacing the room in a way that made me worry for the longevity of the carpeting. Looking completely agitated, he stopped, raked his hands through his hair and turned towards me. "I can't do it anymore. I've tried everything. I left for fuck's sake, and then you showed up here, and I couldn't stay away and there's no escaping it."

Now I was just confused. Oh, and still angry.

"I love you," he continued, "I think you're amazing, and I love you."

This couldn't be right. Dumbfounded, I looked around for Richard, thinking any second he would pop out from behind a door frame and tell me it was all a hilarious, elaborate joke. But he didn't, and Will kept talking.

"I've tried to tell myself that you have no financial assets, your family is a complete liability to whoever gets saddled with taking care of them, and your younger sisters… I won't even go there. But despite all of it, I don't want to keep myself away from you any more, I'll deal with the consequences, and I want you to marry me."

I gripped the cushion of the chair to stop my hands from shaking in complete frustration. There was an infinitesimally tiny piece of me that felt bad for Will. As horrible and insulting as his admission had been, he had just laid himself openly at my feet. But at the same time, he was so blinded by his own self-importance that he never even considered the fact that I had no desire to marry him, for his material assets or otherwise.

Still, I winced at the first stupid thing that came out of my mouth, "Aren't you engaged to Anne?"

He looked completely disgusted, "No! Why does everyone keep saying that?"

I shook my head and took a deep breath, "Look, I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't attracted to you because we both know that's a load of crap. But I'm not so shallow that I don't take a person's actions into consideration when I'm deciding how I feel about them."

I waited for the lightbulb to go off in his head, for him to explain why he hurt my sister so badly, maybe even apologize for how offensive his speech had been, but it didn't happen. His intense stare continued to smolder at me from across the room.

"I'm sure that most people would be _very_ flattered by that little bombshell you just dropped on me," I continued, "but I don't care what you think of me. Up until two minutes ago, I didn't even think you liked me all that much. So I'm sorry if my refusal upsets you, but since there seems to be so many problems in marrying me, it shouldn't be that difficult to get over me."

"Disbelief etched it's way across Will's face. "That's it? Just… no? Do you plan on explaining, or should I just sod off now?"

"Explain?" I laughed harshly, "Like I need more than your insulting list of reasons why my family is so horrible and the fact that you love me despite your common sense? Alright, Will, here's _my_ list. For starters, you took the only copy of the book that I was going to buy in Meryton. That pissed me off, but it's nothing compared to everything else. Even if you had walked in here and said the most romantic, wonderful things do you really think that I would want marry _anyone_ who completely obliterated the happiness of my oldest sister?"

I was close to tears, but I was determined not to cry in front of him. "Did you really do it? Did you send Charlie off so you could break their hearts and keep them separated?"

Will was silent.

"_Did you?_" I hissed.

"I won't deny it. Clearly I've been better to him than I've been to myself."

"Yeah, sure. I bet Charlie's having wonderful time mending his heart in New London with only Caroline as company. And that's not even all of my list Will, I've saved the best for last! I knew what kind of person you were ever since George Wickham told me what you did to him. What a great friend you are. If you're not ruining your friends's relationships, then you're ruining their entire lives."

Will laughed mirthlessly, "What I did to George Wickham? I bet that was a great story."

"And now you're making fun of him? You took everything away from him and forced him to live a life of poverty and danger outside your damn fence!"

"At least it all makes sense now," he shook his head, "But maybe you have answered differently if I'd only said that you were smart and funny? Perhaps if I called you beautiful? Or maybe I should have congratulated myself that I might have to take care of a family that can't keep themselves out of trouble?"

"No! From the first second I saw you I've known that you're a selfish, arrogant, unsympathetic bastard and even if everyone but you and I dropped dead tomorrow I still wouldn't want to be with you!"

The silence in the room was deafening.

"Well then," Will said letting my declaration sink in, "at least you just had your your chance to insult me back."

"That wasn't an insult. That was a _description_," I snarled, "and this is the part where you 'sod off'."

His face drained of color, and his expression hardened. "Right. Sorry to have been such a bother." He stopped briefly at the door and turned as if he was going to say something else. But instead of speaking, he made his exit.

As soon as I heard the door click shut, I felt the hot, angry tears escape down my cheeks. I left a note for Charlotte that I still wasn't feeling better and that I had gone to bed. Then I curled up on top of the sheets, tightly hugging my knees into my chest and wishing like crazy that when I woke in the morning it would all have been a nightmare. But nothing is ever that easy.

* * *

In the morning, I told Charlotte that I was feeling homesick and was worried about how Jane was doing. I don't think she entirely bought it, but she knew something was bothering me and didn't pry into what it was. I was folding up my last pair of pajamas when I heard a quiet knock at my door. Charlotte poked her head in.

"So you had a visitor this morning…" she said.

I stiffened. "Who?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"I could guess, but I'm not entirely sure. They left you something," she said, and handed me a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. In tidily penned cursive, my name embellished the front. She paused for a moment to see if I was going to open it in front of her, but when I made no movement she shut the door, leaving me alone holding the parcel.

I knew who it was from. I wan't sure if I wanted whatever was inside it. But curiosity got the better of me once again, and I untied the strings holding the paper in place, sliding out the contents. _Gone With the Wind_. The very same damn copy from Meryton. A fresh wave of fury washed over me, and I hurled the book at the bed. Did he think he could buy my affection? That suddenly I'd just forget all the things that he'd done and we'd be friends because he gave me a gift? I finished packing my suitcase, zipped it up, and left it by the door. I glanced back at the book lying haphazardly on top of a pillow, and decided to leave it there, along with all the drama and bitterness, and never think of it again.

Charlotte carried my pack and kept me company as I wheeled the my suitcase to the car station. It was bittersweet leaving her, and I gave her a bone crushing hug and promised to write her every week before I slid into the car, and she promised to come visit in a few months. The sound of the ignition starting in the hired car that would take me home felt like a healing salve over all my angst. I felt a melancholy relief, watching Charlotte wave until I couldn't see her anymore.

Crushed between a chatty elderly woman and the window, I spent half the ride staring out at the blur of trees and crumbling roads as we passed them. Due to the road conditions, it was a slower than usual and we stopped a few hours into our trip so the driver could fill up the gas with the reserves he had in the trunk. I opened my bag to grab the apple that Charlotte told me she had packed for a snack, and my hand pressed up against something that felt suspiciously book-like. I pulled it out. It was the book, the offending book, complete with a note from Charlotte that said "I think you forgot something" and a big scribbly heart. I sighed, and was seriously contemplating chucking it out the window when I noticed an envelope wedged between the pages.

My name was written neatly on the outside of the envelope, and I slid my finger under the seal and pulled two worn sheets of paper from inside of it.

_Elizabeth,_

_Don't worry, this isn't a love letter, and I hope that we can both forget everything that was said last night. Maybe I shouldn't write anything at all, but since there are several things you accused me of, I think it's fair that you hear my side._

_You blame me for breaking off your sister's relationship with Charlie, which is true, but I feel that I had good reason. Your sister and Charlie became very attached very quickly. This is typical of Charlie, so I had no reason to be initially concerned. But when I started hearing your mother, Mr. Lucas, and various other people talk about them becoming engaged, I began to keep a watchful eye on Charlie and Jane. While I've never seen Charlie more in love with anyone, Jane seemed distant. And though your family's situation doesn't matter to me, in the several times I've been around your parents and younger sisters I've been concerned about their lack of work ethic and common sense. I know that both you and Jane would do anything for your family, I didn't want to see Charlie having to burden himself making sure his in-laws stay take care of themselves and stay out of trouble. Caroline and Louisa agreed with me completely and we all told Charlie our concerns. He wasn't convinced until we persuaded him that Jane didn't feel the same way about him, and then he agreed to leave with us. I'm sorry if I misunderstood your sister's feelings, but I don't regret looking out for Charlie._

"Conceited idiot!" I muttered aloud.

"What?" The old woman sitting beside me looked alarmed.

"Uh, can't you see I'm... hot? I said lamely, and rolled down my window. She scooted half a seat away from me, and I went back to reading the letter.

_As to George Wickham, I'm not sure what he's told you, but I'd doubt it's the truth. I grew up with George, and my father was a real estate tycoon and the owner of several gated communities in western Connecticut. We lived at the Pemberley Estates, and George's father was the property manager and a good friend to my father. He passed away when George was very young, so my father practically raised him. He loved George, paid for his college education, gave him everything he needed. As you know, both my parents passed away from the virus epidemic. We found out after that George was included in my parent's will. At the time, society was just beginning to collapse and I tried to convince George to use his portion of the inheritance to invest in food, tools, and medical supplies for the community living in Pemberley. George refused, took his portion of the money and left, and I later found out that he had spent it on a new car, drugs, and a trip to Vegas where he gambled the rest of it away._

_He eventually came back to Pemberley and begged to be let in, and since he was almost a brother to me I relented under the condition that he work in return for the food and shelter we were supplying. He agreed, and for a while everything seemed fine. Last year, I left Pemberley on business and while I was gone he formed a close bond with my sister, Georgiana, who is only seventeen. He convinced her that he was in love with her, and that the only way they could be together was if they ran away. My head of security discovered George copying the notes in our supply log book and eavesdropping on our inventory manager's conversations. After a lengthy interrogation and a search of George's room, he realized that George was planning to kidnap my sister and ransom her for the contents of the Pemberley food and weapons stockpiles. To say that my sister was devastated and heartbroken would be an understatement. She hasn't trusted anyone since. George was banished from our community, and I hadn't seen him until the day he showed up in Meryton._

_Please don't share this story, I don't want it getting back to Pemberley and causing panic over how close we came to disaster. I'm not sure what I would have done had George succeeded with his plan, but my sister is everything to me. If you need proof of this story being true, just ask Richard. He knows everything. Maybe I should have told you all of this last night but I don't think I was composed enough to tell it, nor do I think you would have been willing to listen to what I had to say._

_And please keep this book. I never paid you for helping me get music for Georgie, so if you won't consider this as a peace offering, then consider this my payment for your services._

_I wish you nothing but happiness,_

_Will_

I read the letter three times, each time barely resisting the urge to crumple it into a ball or rip it in to little pieces. But I didn't, and each time I read it I felt a little less angry at Will and a little bit more angry at myself for being able to see it more objectively. Sure, he was an idiot about Jane, but the rest of my family had proved again and again that they were not easy to take care of. And my mother had made it seem as though the only benefit to Jane marrying Charlie was what he could provide for our family. I couldn't fault Will too much there. In fact, I faulted Charlie more for being so easily swayed.

Wickham on the other hand, assuming the story was true, was a whole different issue. I doubted that Will would tell me that story and bring Richard in to it if it wasn't true. And I had been so quick to believe George, mostly just because I didn't like Will at the time. I felt ashamed of how rapidly and incorrectly I had judged the situation. I shoved the letter and the book back into my bag, and tried unsuccessfully to nap the rest of the way to Meryton.


	12. Chapter Twelve

The worst part was being alone when I arrived home. Jane wasn't due back with the Gardiners for another week and I could hardly discuss what happened with my parents or my younger sisters. I worked most of the week, and spent the rest of it rereading gloomy victorian novels and bartering for corn and wheat from Netherfield. Both harvests had gone nicely, and I wanted to make sure that Jane wouldn't have to go to Netherfield for any reason. Since I had agreed to go with my aunt and uncle to their next job, Jane would end up doing most of the trading when I was gone.

When Jane finally arrived home with the Gardiners, it was about the only thing that gave me any comfort since arriving back in Meryton. She knew almost immediately that something had occurred that had left me distressed, and did her best to coax it out of me. I caved when she gathered wild strawberries and built me a sheet tent in my bedroom like when we were kids. We both crawled inside and I related to her the whole trip, leaving out any part that involved her or Charlie. There were still plenty of other reasons for why I loathed Will, and I didn't see that it would be helpful to either of us to broach the topic.

"So he was in love with you this whole time? I didn't think he liked anyone!"

"Neither did I. Ugh, Jane, I don't want to talk about Will," I buried my face in her shoulder, "What are we going to do about George Wickham?"

"Just think about it Lizzie, he probably realized his mistakes since he's now making an honest living working in Meryton. I'm not saying that what he did was right by any means, but he was clearly desperate. We've all been there." Jane was far more willing than I was to pardon George's past behavior.

"I've never considered kidnapping people to make a living," I said, horrified that she could think that.

"Yes, but if you were in the right set of circumstances?" she asked, biting in to a tiny strawberry.

"Maybe to protect our family in a life or death situation, but not because I was a greedy jerk who wanted steal from an entire community."

"We don't know what his reasons were."

"I suppose not," I sighed, "Doesn't mean I like it though. Should we say anything? I don't mean publicly, but should we tell Dad or Kitty and Lydia?"

Jane ran her fingers through my hair, sighing, "I sort of want to, but I feel like it's not our place. George has been so nice to you though, I think we should let him start fresh here. And even more importantly, if he really is dangerous, who knows what he'd do to us if we ruined his reputation and got him kicked out of the guard! You know if we told anyone in this family, it'd be all over Meryton by tomorrow morning."

I nodded. "Fine, but if he acts at all suspicious, I'll have to do something."

"Seems fair to me."

"How was New London?"

"Eh. I saw Caroline once, and I think you might be right Lizzie."

"Right about what?"

"Caroline's a bitch."

"Hah! Little Jane, all grown up and saying mean things about people! I declare this a national holiday!" I laughed, giving my sister a hug.

By coincidence or really bad luck, we ran in to George the very next day, passing him on the road as Jane and I were walking to the spring. As much as I wanted to ignore him or just run in the other direction, I knew I'd have to face him eventually. I was just glad that Jane was there with me for moral support.

"Lizzie! I haven't seen you in forever!" George exclaimed, and enveloped me in a tight embrace that I might have considered enthusiastically friendly at one time. Now it just made my skin crawl, and I mentally went over the list of places on his body I could inflict quick damage on if I needed to.

"Yeah, I've been away for a while visiting a friend of mine," I said, watching Jane meander a short ways ahead and bend down to tie her shoe. She hovered nearby, keeping a close ear on our conversation.

"Ah yes, Charlotte right? How was Rosings? Did you get to meet the famous Aunt Catherine?"

"Yes, I spent quite a bit of time with the entire family. Will was there too," I said, curiously watching his reaction.

George crossed his arms, "I bet that was a fun family reunion. How many hours did it take before you were considering suicide over spending another afternoon with Will?"

"Actually, I think I like him more than when he first came to Meryton."

George let out a laugh, and it didn't escape my notice that it sounded forced. "Has he started taking a large dose of humility with his orange juice in the morning?"

"More like I got a reality check."

George's smile faded and he scratched his nose before brightening up again. "Well I've missed our conversations! Maybe you and I could go for a walk?"

"We're headed to the springs. You can join us if you want," I said, trying to make it sound unappealing.

He glanced at Jane, and game me a smirk. "I was thinking something a little more secluded. And just the two of us. We've only had one sort-of date, and I think you need some quality alone-with-George time."

I scowled at him.

"Okay, okay!" he laughed, holding his hands up, "How about I come to your house then? You can show me that car I keep hearing about."

"Car?"

"Oh come on, don't play dumb. I've heard all about the stuff you keep in the basement. Lydia was telling me all-"

"Lydia? When did you talk to Lydia?! Wickham, she's sixteen years old," I pointed my finger at him, "and you have no business with her, so stay the fuck away from her. In fact, stay away from all of us." I grabbed the handle on our wagon and began walking away from him.

"I'll stay away from Lydia," he said, lightly mocking, "Can't promise she'll stay away from me though."

"You should really work on your material Wickham. That's the oldest line in the book," I spat. Jane looked at me nervously once we gained some distance from him.

"We're talking to Lydia the second we get home. She needs to stay away from him. I don't even care what we tell her, it just has to happen," I blurted out, and Jane nodded in agreement.

Unfortunately, talking to Lydia was never as easy as deciding to talk to Lydia. Jane and I decided that a white lie was better than the truth getting out, so we told her that we'd heard George had given Mary King a terrible case of cold sores.

"Oh Lizzie, that's cute. You're just saying that because you like him and you don't want me to have him!"

"She's not, Lydia. It's true, and even if it weren't he's still more than a decade too old for you. I will tell Dad, you know," Jane cautioned.

"And I don't like him Lydia. He's not good for anyone," I added. "Promise me you won't go near him."

"Fiiiine," Lydia pouted, and flounced out of the room.

"I don't like this. Keep an eye on her while I'm gone Jane, I don't trust her. Or him."

I almost cancelled my trip with the Gardiners entirely, but they wanted to spend some time with me and I wanted my uncle to teach me some of his carpentry skills. They were willing to split some of their earnings with me, so there was no reason to turn it down, other than the unease I felt over leaving Lydia.

Though I wasn't looking forward to being driven down bumpy roads for hours, the company was worth it. We took our trip slow, breaking the travel in to two days, and my aunt and uncle regaled me with funny stories. We talked for a long time about how Jane was doing on the second day of our journey, and I was so caught up in conversation that it surprised me when my uncle announced that we had arrived at our destination.

As we drove up to the main gate, a man in a grey uniform asked my uncle to roll down his window and took his information. The front gates were wrought iron, and it looked as though it had been reinforced sometime recently with a second chain link fence, with barbed wire wrapping around the top. A wall solid brick wall wound around the entire compound, and a fancy engraved name plate with the words "Pemberley Estates" was imbedded into it. A giant knot formed in my stomach, and I hopelessly wondered if maybe there was another Pemberley Estates that was thriving somewhere else in the New England area. It didn't seem very likely.

My uncle drove the van to a small parking lot off to the side of the gate and parked. A tough looking man with a crew cut and all black clothing carried a clipboard up to us as we were getting out and stretching the fatigue out of our limbs.

"Ed Gardiner?" he asked.

"That would be me. At your service," my uncle replied.

"Excellent. You're here earlier than we'd hoped. My name is Reynolds, and I'm the head of security here, though I also take care of the business end while the owner's out of town. If you'd all come with me to the main office, I'd like to go over what the job entails and get you all situated."

I breathed a sigh of relief. If Reynolds was going to discuss the contracts with my uncle, it could only mean that the owner wasn't around. Whether it was the Pemberley or not, Will wouldn't be here. I wasn't sure if it would be better for me to keep a low profile, or if I should leave if I found it did in fact belong to Will. I nudged my aunt as we were walking towards the office.

"Why didn't you tell me you were working at Pemberley?"

"You never asked. What's wrong with Pemberley?"

I blushed. "You remember Jane's Charlie?"

"Yes…" Aunt Meg looked puzzled.

"Pemberley belongs to his friend. The one that everyone couldn't stand because he acted like he was better than everyone else."

"Oh! Wait, is that the guy that kicked George out? And the one that called you surly?"

"Scrappy... is there anything Jane didn't tell you?"

She shrugged, "She needed to get a lot off her chest. And I never get to see you guys any more," she put her arms around me, "so don't even think about leaving. The Lizzie I know would never leave because some guy she didn't like was around. And besides, it sounds like he's out of town."

_Oh, Aunt Meg, if you only knew the whole story._

Resigned, I followed Reynolds with my aunt and uncle through the imposing front door of a giant beige mansion. The office was the first room on the left, and Reynolds asked us to sit on a leather futon as he went to get us some water. I studied the room as we waited. There were books everywhere, mostly business and real estate but some medical texts as well. And there were family photos on the built-in book shelves, so I got up to look at them. Most of them were of a dark haired middle aged man and a blond woman of about the same age. There were two of a girl who looked to be about ten in the photos. I began to hope that perhaps there really was more than one Pemberley around.

Reynolds walked back in carrying a tray of glasses and a pitcher of water, and I decided to find out for sure how much trouble I had just gotten myself in to.

"Are these the owners?" I asked, pointing to one of the pictures of the middle aged couple.

"Yes," Reynolds said with a smile.

_Ohthankgod._

"Or, rather they were. They built this place from the ground up. It belongs to their son now."

I turned slowly and looked wide-eyed at my aunt. She gave me a saucy grin, and turned to Reynolds.

"And who is their son? I believe we've only been corresponding with you."

"William Darcy. I believe there's one picture of him. It's a little old, but it's the last one taken," he pulled one off the shelf that I'd missed and handed it to Aunt Meg.

"Lizzie! You neglected to mention how handsome he is!"

I glared at the traitor that was inhabiting my aunt's body.

"You know Will?" Reynolds asked me, surprised.

"A little. I met him in Meryton," I struggled to keep my voice steady. My mind was already running a hundred miles a minute, trying to formulate an exit strategy.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you, but he's one of the best men I've ever known, so much like his dad, and I've known him since he was a little kid," he said, smiling fondly at the photo. "He's great to work for, always calm and willing to listen to reason, never treats his employees with anything but respect. I'm not sure Pemberley would still exist if it wasn't for his management of it. He's due back sometime tomorrow."

"Is that George Wickham standing next to him?" my aunt asked, handing the photo back to Reynolds.

"Yeah, you know him too? Can't say George turned out as well as Will did," he said putting the photos down, and grabbing a stack of papers from the desk. "So we have a lengthy list of things that need to be fixed before the winter, starting with the most pressing concerns. There's four houses in the complex that have had serious roof leaks and need patching and sizable amount of ceiling repair. And then there's the issue of wood rot in some of the beams…"

As my aunt and uncle poured over the list of repairs needed and signed a contract, I decided to walk around outside and think up a plan to get home. I turned left out the front door, walking down a shade-covered sidewalk. Despite a few cosmetic issues, the Pemberley complex was gorgeous. I assumed the house that the office was in belonged to Will, since it was the largest building. The other houses, though smaller, were just as lovely. People milled about in the streets, some chatting with each other, many were gardening, and everyone seemed light hearted and content. A few children playing a game of tag ran by, and a little bit of incredulous laughter bubbled up from inside me. I could have married into this. Will's letter had already taken the sting out of the accusations laid against him, and as much as I hated to admit it, his living situation helped a bit too.

I had walked the streets for over a half hour, so I turned back for the office to see if the Gardiners were finished with their business, admiring Will's beautiful mansion as I walked back towards it. I stepped up the stone stairway and pushed the front door open, shutting it behind me. As I turned to walk to the office, I stopped dead in my tracks. Not ten feet in front of me stood the owner of the estates, looking almost as surprised as I felt. We both stared at each other for a full ten seconds before I decided that running for the door would be less embarrassing than continuing to stand where I was.

"Elizabeth, wait!" he called out, running after me, "where are you going?"

The words tumbled out of me like a river, "I'm so sorry! I didn't know we were going to Pemberley until we were already here, and then they said that you weren't here, so I thought I had at least a day to figure out how to get home, and now I don't know-"

"Lizzie, it's fine," he said with a breathless laugh,"I don't mind you're here, it just caught me off guard."

I distractedly bit my lip and nodded, "My aunt and uncle are here to do some repairs. They wanted me to come with them. Really Will, I'm so sorry, I had no idea..."

"Lizzie, is that you? We were wondering where you'd gone off to!" My uncle stuck his head past the office door, and walked in to the hallway when he saw I wasn't alone. My aunt followed him. I was waiting for the cold brush-off that Will usually gave people he didn't know, but it never came.

"Hi, I'm Will. I heard you're the highly recommended repair people we've so desperately been needing," he said, shaking their hands.

"This is my Aunt Meg and my Uncle Ed," I said, ignoring my Aunt's raised eyebrows.

"I guess it's an even smaller world than before. It's a pleasure to meet you. I see that Reynolds already went over the lists with you, but if you wouldn't mind I'd love to discuss it more detail over dinner. Did anyone bring your suitcases in yet?" Will asked.

"Oh, no, we were just going to stay in the van. It's pretty cosy." I said quickly.

Will looked taken aback, but maintained the gracious and amiable tone he seemed to have acquired in the few weeks since I'd seen him. "We have enough guest rooms in this house to fit a small army. It would be a pleasure to have company staying here."

"Well, we certainly wouldn't object to a real bed," my aunt said happily, and my uncle nodded in agreement.

Everyone looked at me. "Yeah, okay, that would be nice," I said hesitatingly.

Will looked relieved that I didn't protest, and immediately asked Reynolds to help us gather our things while he got the guest rooms ready. On the way out my aunt touched my arm.

"That can't be the same friend of Charlie's we've heard so much about," she said, keeping out of earshot of Reynolds.

"I assure you, it is."

"But he was so friendly Lizzie!"

"Case of the bodysnatchers," I murmured, "Can't possibly be Will." And not only because this was a completely different side of Will Darcy I'd never seen before. I was surprised that after all the things I'd said to him, all the things I'd accused him of, he was acting as though we were friends. I would have thought that he couldn't do anything but despise me after what had happened.

I grabbed my suitcase from the van, and walked back to the house and up to the second floor where Reynolds had told me to meet him. He led me to a cozy room with cheery pale yellow walls and a giant four poster bed. A bay window looked out over slope of the first floor roof and the wooded back of the Pemberley Estates. As I fixed my hair and put on a fresh shirt for dinner, I wondered what in the world I had just gotten myself in to.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

"Lizzie, this is my sister Georgiana," Will said, putting his hands on the shoulders of a pretty blond teenager who was shyly staring at the floor. Her eyes flickered to me a few times, but she didn't make eye contact.

"It's Georgie," she said softly.

"I'm glad to finally meet you Georgie, I've heard so much about you," I said, touching her arm in greeting, "Tales of your musical talents have spread far and wide."

She glanced at Will, and he smiled warmly at her. I could tell, just by that smile, that he really would do anything for her.

I continued, "If you'd be nice enough to sit next to me at dinner, I'd love to pick your brain and learn all your piano playing secrets. If your Aunt Catherine makes me play for her again, she'll be very disappointed if I'm still playing the same two songs as badly as I did at Rosings."

Georgie looked at me, eyes wide, "Oh, no! Will said you played wonderfully."

I laughed, "I think either your brother lied to you, or he's hard of hearing. Anyone that heard me play would know that what I didn't mess up I made up."

"I'll have you know that I have excellent hearing," Will said.

"Then you admit to lying?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I'd only admit to being partial," he said, and my face grew warm when I saw that my aunt and uncle were watching our conversation with intense interest.

Georgie sat next to me at dinner, and slowly but surely I drew her out of her shell with jokes and stories about all the trouble my sisters and I got in to when we were growing up. She was quiet, but her questions increased in quantity and her answers increased in length as the evening wore on. Eventually, she seemed to forget her reservations and talked to me as animatedly as though she were one of my own sisters.

"I promise, his stories are more made up than truth! Honestly, he's just as terrified of Aunt Catherine as the rest of us, he just has a better poker face!" she laughed.

"I don't know, Georgie, he seemed pretty cocky around her. You know Richard walked in late to the first dinner we had at Rosings and barely apologized to her?" I said, grinning at her.

"I'm sure he did, but did he ever disobey anything she told him to do?" she asked.

I recalled all of our dinners at Rosings. "No. No, I guess he didn't. Why are you all so scared of her? Is she like the lady version of Brando in The Godfather?"

"Brando?"

"Er, nevermind. I forgot that most movies were a bit before your time."

"Because she's terrifying! That, and I guess she's the only real adult relative we have. Will's not scared of her though, he just likes avoiding conflict when he can," she said, looking fondly at her brother.

Though deep in conversation with my uncle, Will looked across the table at me upon hearing his name, attentive and self-conscious at once. It was a good thing I was already sitting down. The smoldering intensity of his gaze was enough to weaken my knees.

"I guess he does have good hearing," I murmured to Georgie, who shot me a smile then gasped as Reynolds brought out the most mouth watering cake I'd seen in the past decade, baked to golden brown perfection and drizzled in layers of solid chocolate. My mouth began to water at the sight of it, and I'm sure I looked like a little kid with their nose pressed against the window of a candy store. Looking around the table, I was relieved to see it wasn't just me. The only person not wantonly ogling the cake was Will, who was smiling indulgently at Georgie and I.

"Will, where did you get that?" Georgie exclaimed.

Reynolds frowned at her, "What? You don't think I made this delicious... chocolate... thing...?"

"Sorry Reynolds, it's a poorly kept secret that you can't cook," Will laughed, "Straight from a bakery in White Plains, Georgie. I didn't know we'd have dinner guests, but it seemed like the perfect time to share it."

"Thank you, Will. I haven't had a meal this good in ages!" my aunt said, taking a plate Reynolds offered her, and moaning as she took a bite of chololate.

My uncle nodded, "Yes, I can't say any of our employers have been as generous as you. It's most appreciated."

The cake was so rich and buttery that it practically melted in my mouth, and I could still taste it after my relatives and I said goodnight and retired upstairs. I lay on the bed and attempted to read by candlelight for a while, but I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking about Will's letter, about his hospitality towards my aunt and uncle, the way he looked at me at dinner... with a sigh, I put my book on the night table. There definitely wasn't going to be any reading tonight.

I felt uncomfortably warm, so I got up to open the window and let some air in to the room. It opened with ease and I leaned out, breathing in the fresh night air and listening to the... loud scratching sound that was coming from nearby.

"Lizzie?"

"Will, is that you?" I squinted into the darkness, "What are you doing on the roof?"

He chuckled, "You've discovered my hiding spot. It's the best place to see the stars... or escape certain friend's sisters if they happen to visiting. Come through the window in my room, I'll show you."

"Where's your room?"

"Right next to yours."

I walked out of my room and into the adjoining one. I couldn't see much, but the moonlight outlined his open window and I could see him crouched in the frame. He offered me his hand as I stepped onto the gently sloping roof, and I sat down beside him and lay back to gaze at the stars. The air was balmy with a whisper of a breeze and the woods were alive with the noises of crickets and cicadas. I softly exhaled. Turning my head, I could see the faintest outline of Will's face turned towards me.

"What?" I asked bemusedly.

"What were you thinking about?"

"I love the noise. I never realized how quiet it could be until the power went out for the last time. No TV, no radio. Not even the hum of electricity. I couldn't sleep for weeks because it was so quiet at night."

"I was here when it went out for the last time," Will spoke quietly. "I thought it would come back on. I couldn't bring myself to believe that it might not. And every day, I got more and more anxious about it until finally I just put my energy in to finding candles, extra batteries, solar powered lights… and then I accepted it and got on with life."

"What do you miss the most?" I asked.

"Hot water that comes out of the faucet. Email. Xbox. The New York Times. Microwaves… Easy Mac."

"I'd forgotten about Easy Mac!" I groaned.

"It's funny though, in a way I'm happier now than I was before all that happened."

"How do you mean?"

"I detested medical school. I was only going because my dad wanted me to. I was good at it, but I missed my family and I hated the long hours at the hospital, I hated having someone's life or death in my hands all the time. It's being at Pemberley and being with the people I grew up with, keeping them safe and provided for that makes me happy."

"I can understand that," I said, thinking of my sisters.

"What about you? What do you miss?" he asked.

I thought for a moment. "Libraries. The internet. Currency that every store or seller accepted. But I mostly just miss feeling safe. I miss knowing that everything's going to be alright, that my family can take care of themselves without me."

"Maybe your family is more able than you give them credit for. You've been away for a few weeks this summer already, and no one burned the house down, as far as you know. They'll be okay without you."

"You have met my family right? Because at one point I seem to remember you describing them as a liability, so I'm not sure we're talking about the same people right now."

I could almost hear Will cringe. "I'm sorry. I was such an ass to you then, and I'd really like to just pretend that whole thing never happened."

"Which part?"

"The part where I told you I was in love with you despite my better judgement. And the part about your family," he paused, "Also probably anything I said about Jane…"

"What would you have done instead?"

"I would have just told you I loved you."

My heart fluttered oddly at his admission, and I didn't want to dwell on it so I changed the subject. "I miss listening to music. I mean, I know your sister plays beautifully, but I miss being able to hear anything I want by just pressing a button."

"What if you still could?" I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Don't tease me! You'll make me very disappointed."

"I aim to please, love, make no mistake," he chuckled, and suddenly he was pulling me to my feet and leading me back through his window. He grabbed a battery powered lantern from his nightstand and flipped it on. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the change in light, and then followed Will as he took my hand and walked out of his room and down a flight of stairs to the first floor of the house. We passed through two more rooms before ending up in what looked like a den.

"Sit," he said, pointing to a tufted leather chair next to a matching couch. I sat and watched with interest as he opened up a drawer in the middle of a mahogany media cabinet. Finding whatever he was looking for, he shut the drawer and perched next to me on the chair arm. Opening his hand, he procured an iPod. I looked at it hesitantly.

"So it has about five minutes of power left, and you're letting me drain it?"

He grinned. "Nope. It's got a few hours, and when it runs out we can use my solar powered charger."

"You have one of those?!"

"Well, technically it was Wickham's but I really don't feel bad about keeping it."

I took the iPod from him and began scrolling through the multitude of albums and playlists. Will handed me a set of earphones, and I put them in and lost myself in remembering sounds that I had grown up with, cleaned my bedroom to, drove to school with… my fingers stopped the click wheel at one of my favorite songs, and I pressed on the play button.

It was as soft and sweet and melodic as I remembered it, a little bit sad and a little bit hopeful. I shut my eyes and could feel goosebumps form as the sound enveloped me in a way I hadn't felt for so long. I opened my eyes as I felt Will's hand touch mine, tilting the screen on the iPod so he could see what I was listening to. I paused it, and took an earphone out of my left ear.

"Sorry… I was just wondering what had you so enraptured…" he said, one side of his mouth quirking.

"I love this song. Have you heard it?"

"No, I think Georgie must have put it on there."

I stood up and offered him the left side of the earphones. He put it in his ear and I un-paused the song.

_Well, time has a way of throwing it all in your face… the past, she is haunted, the future is laced… heartbreak, ya know, drives a big black car… I swear I was in the back seat, just minding my own…_

I had shut my eyes again, and felt myself swaying almost imperceptibly to the melody. We were standing so close, and Will's fingers drifted over my arms and up my back, gently pulling me towards him. Before I could make sense of what was happening, we were dancing.

_Well, you were a dancer and I was a rag… the song in my head, well it was all that I had… hope was a letter I never could send… well, love was a country we couldn't defend…_

When he pulled me a fraction closer, I decided to stop thinking so much, and just act on what felt right. I draped my arms around his shoulders, let my head rest against his chest, listened to his heart steadily beating; background percussion to the background music. When the song ended, neither of us moved from our embrace until he cupped my chin and planted a searing kiss on my lips. He pulled back, and I thought for a fleeting second that we were about to have repeat of our disastrous drunken incident until his mouth was claiming mine again, tender and hungry all at once. I sighed in contentment as his fingers ghosted over my cheekbones and circled the shell of my ear. His arms wrapped possessively around me as he pulled us on to the couch, lips blazing a trail down the side of my neck, and I groaned faintly at the sensation of his mouth grazing my collarbone. As my hands wound through his hair, his fingers seemed to be everywhere at once, pressing into my hips, moving to my waist, caressing my ribs. My mind was devoid of any thoughts other than how much I wanted him.

"Will? Have you seen my- oh… OH! Sorry!" Georgiana looked equal parts horrified and elated. "I, ah… was just looking for my hair brush."

I had jumped up and moved to the other end of the couch at the sound of his sisters voice, though I'm sure our swollen lips and guilty expressions had left Georgiana in little doubt as to what had been going on.

"I uh, I think it's in the upstairs bathroom," Will responded, smoothing out his crumpled shirt and doing his best to look unaffected.

"Okay… thanks… I'll go now… and leave you guys to do whatever it was you were doing," she said, and broke in to a huge grin before dashing away.

I glanced at Will, who was covering his face with his hands and shaking with laughter and embarrassment. "That did not go how I was hoping it would."

I wondered exactly where he hoped "it" had been going, and Will caught the contemplative expression on my face. "Not like that," he said quickly, "just ending on a less awkward note." He paused. "Not that I don't want to, because believe me, there's nothing I'd rather-" he stopped, exhaling. "We should probably get ourselves to bed. Beds. Separately."

I smiled at how discomposed he had become and took his hand, intertwining his fingers through mine. "Yeah, probably."

He walked me back to my room and planted two soft kisses on my lips, and one on the palm of my hand before bidding me goodnight and returning to his own room.

I found that sleep was impossible with the legions of butterflies flickering in my stomach and the glowing fire that seemed to have had ignited itself in my chest.

* * *

The next day dawned far too early for my liking, and I pulled on my jeans, brushed my hair back into a pony tail, and went downstairs for breakfast, guided by the incredibly strong scent of coffee that was wafting through the whole house. Will who was apparently an early riser, had already made himself eggs and what seemed to indeed be a cup of coffee, and was pouring through a pile of letters. Without the comfort of darkness around me, I felt unusually shy after the previous night. He looked up when I entered the kitchen and gave me a bright smile that made the butterflies come back with a vengeance.

"Morning," he said, resting his chin in one hand and not taking his eyes off of me, "sleep well?"

I blushed, recalling how long I'd remained awake, thinking about him. "Yeah, thanks. The bed is really comfy."

"Good. Want some coffee?" he asked, offering me a mug.

"One thousand times yes," I said, snatching the mug out of his hands and stealing a slice of nutty bread with butter from a plate on the counter. I pulled out a chair to sit beside him.

"So I'm not sure how you're going to feel about this, but since there's no way to stop it from happening, I should probably just tell you now."

"Tell me what?" I asked, blowing on the surface of my coffee to cool it and taking a few tentative sips.

He winced and said quickly, "Charles and Caroline are visiting. They'll be here this afternoon."

"Oh." Truthfully I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Not entirely, anyway. There were few people I'd rather avoid more than Caroline, but I wasn't sure how I felt about seeing Charlie. He'd hurt my sister so badly, and though Will had played a small part, it was Charlie who owned most of the blame.

"Hey, it is what it is. I wouldn't say that I don't want to see them... well, Charlie anyway," I paused, "I'm sure you're dying to see Caroline though so I'll put up with it the best I can." I gave him a coy smile.

"Yes, actually I've found myself thinking about Caroline fairly often recently," he said, eyes glinting with humor as he watched my smile falter a bit, "I've missed our scintillating conversations regarding the latest fashion trends in New London, and arguing over whether the slang terms "cray" and "totes" are actually in the dictionary."

I laughed and did my best to imitate Caroline, "But your shirt is _so_ 2009\. Didn't you know orange is like the new green?"

"This?" he said, examining the deep green fabric of his t-shirt, "this isn't out of fashion, it's vintage."

"Pretty much everything is vintage."

"Exactly," he said with a grin, getting up and putting his plate in the sink. He leaned over me to grab the coffee carafe just as I was reaching for it, and his hand came in to contact with mine. We both froze.

His warm hand slid gently up my bare arm, coming to rest at the crook of my neck, and I shivered at the little bursts of heat that were flying up and down my limbs.

"So... about last night..." he began.

I slid around on my seat to face him, sighing. "You really want to have that talk?"

"I thought... well, yeah, I mean we-"

He stopped talking when I helped his lips become better occupied. He groaned, and I felt him lift me up to sit me on the kitchen table, leaning in between my legs and thoroughly kissing me. He stopped when he heard Reynolds calling his name from the front door.

"I'm cursed," he murmured hotly in my ear, "I can't have more than five minutes of you without being bloody interrupted."

"You could've had several hours. But I seem to remember you stopping it rather quickly in favor of sitting on the floor and brooding."

"You were drunk! Do you really think I'd take advantage you?" He looked completely scandalized.

"That's why you stopped?" Suddenly everything was starting to make sense.

"That was the hardest test of willpower I have _ever_ had to endure," he kissed my lips, "and I'm warning you that," another kiss, "after last night," his lips found their way along the side of my jaw, and his voice lowered to a gravelly purr, "my willpower is pretty much nonexistent."

He sighed when Reynolds called his name again. "I'll be back this afternoon. You're working with your aunt and uncle today?"

I nodded, feeling too intoxicated with desire to say much of anything.

"Then I'll see you later." He gave me one last kiss for good measure, and I noted as he left that even the way he walked turned me on.

As I returned to my room, I wondered if I could fit a very cold shower in before work.

* * *

"Lizzie! Pay attention! The plaster needs to be thick enough to stick to the ceiling but thin enough to spread easily, like a thick yogurt, not like clay," my uncle chided, as I added more water to the thick mixture and began stirring.

"Ugh, sorry Uncle Ed. I didn't sleep very well last night," I said, scooping up some plaster on my trowel and letting him inspect it again.

"Better," he nodded, "I can't imagine why you didn't sleep well. You slept fine in the van. You have something against plush beds in fancy houses?"

My aunt climbed down the ladder from the attic, hands covered in sawdust and pitch.

"No, I just had a lot on my mind," I said.

"I'm sure you did," my aunt said with a grin, "and I bet he was tall, dark, and handsome." I threw a wet chunk of plaster at her and she laughed as it hit her in the shoulder.

"Not another word Meg Gardiner, or there's a whole bucket waiting for you when you least expect it," I threatened.

"Did I miss something? What am I missing?" my uncle asked, confused.

"Nothing!" my aunt and I said simultaneously.

True to his word, Will returned a few hours before dinner, just as my aunt, uncle, and I were getting back from the house we were working on. My aunt had managed to replace half of the rotten boards in the ceiling and attic, my uncle had spent most of the morning teaching me how to prepare and spread the plaster onto the ceiling with a trowel. It had taken a while to get it right, but the repairs were moving along quickly and I was impressed with my own handiwork. I cleaned the plaster dust out of my hair and changed my clothes, joining Will and his sister downstairs while my aunt and uncle went for a walk outside Pemberley.

It seemed like too short a time before Reynolds came in to the den to let us know that Charlie and Caroline had arrived. Georgiana, who had been lying on the floor drawing in a sketchbook, got up to get refreshments for them.

"Do you want help?" I asked.

"No, you look very comfortable where you are," she said with a grin, and left for the kitchen.

I couldn't argue. I was very comfortable, book in my lap and snuggled up with Will on the couch. In silent agreement Will wrapped his arm tighter around me and rested his chin on my shoulder.

"Are you smelling my hair?" I laughed, as I heard him quietly inhale.

"I can't help it, you smell amazing. Like lavender. And vanilla. Or maybe it's just _you_..."

"You're lucky I like you. If you were anyone else, it'd come off as creepy."

"Oh, so you like me now?"

"You're okay, I guess," I said, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

"Just okay?" he asked, kissing my neck and nibbling at my earlobe.

"Mmmm. Maybe a little better than okay," I confessed, giggling, "but only a little."

The door to the livingroom swung open, and I'm not too proud to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed the incredulous look on Caroline's face when she saw us. I gave her a wide smile and stood up to greet them. Charlie looked surprised, but not at all unhappy that Will and I were... together? Involved? I wasn't even sure what we were. He gave me a hug and gave Will one of those manly one-armed embraces and a good natured slap on the back.

"Lizzie! How are you? I wasn't expecting to see you of all people here!" Charlie looked tired and somewhat dampened in spirit.

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting it either, but surprise! And I'm well. It's good to see you!"

"And how's your family doing?"

"My father's still driving my mom crazy, my mom still is crazy. My younger sisters have been learning how to fish all summer, so we've had a few incidents with fish hooks in our food," I paused, and Charlie looked at me expectantly, obviously hoping I'd mention Jane. I didn't want to go _too_ easy on him. "Oh, and Collins got married," I said, snapping my fingers like I'd just remembered, "you remember my friend Charlotte? They're living in Rosings Park now." Charlie's smile withered slowly when I didn't say anything else.

"And Jane's doing well too," I said finally, watching the flicker of emotions run across Charlie's face.

Georgiana pushed open the door to the livingroom with her foot and gave Charlie a bright smile as she walked in.

"Hey Georgie-Porgie. How are you? I think you've grown two inches since I last saw you!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Charlie, I haven't grown since I was fifteen!" she laughed.

Caroline was still fuming, silently staring at Will and I, and I began to wonder if she was trying to kill me telekinetically. "Eliza, what ever happened to that George Wickham fellow? I heard you guys were a thing," she said with an icy smile.

At the sound of George's name, Georgiana gasped and dropped the tray of coffee and mugs she'd been carrying. Coffee and shards of pottery landed all over the hardwood floor at her feet. Will looked extremely alarmed, and I assumed that none of the Bingleys knew the particulars of what had happened with George Wickham. Or at least Caroline didn't.

"Georgie, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I should have helped you… that's too much for one person to carry in!" I hurried to take the tray from her, "why don't you go get some towels and we'll mop this up." She shot me a grateful look and left the room. I started putting pieces of the broken pottery on to the tray, sneaking a glance at Will as he knelt down beside me and helped to pick up.

I eyed Caroline, "Really? George Wickham? Not in a million years."

Will whispered "thank you" in my ear before I got up and carried the tray out of the livingroom. Setting the tray down on the nearest available table in the hall, I found Georgie crying quietly in the bathroom, and I leaned beside her against the vanity.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I hate that hearing his name can still do that to me after all this time," she said, glancing at my surprised expression, "It's okay, I know Will told you. I'm glad he did. The only people that even know about it are Will and Reynolds, so I'm glad that I can finally talk to another girl. You weren't really with George, were you?"

"Absolutely not, though he can be very charming when he wants to be. There aren't any other girls around here to talk to?"

"Not that I could discuss attempted kidnapping with. I guess it would probably be okay if Louisa or Caroline knew, but I haven't seen Louisa in a while and I don't really like Caroline. She's only nice to me when Will's around. And she's kind of scary." She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

I playfully nudged her shoulder, "You know, I figured out the secret to dealing with Caroline." Georgie looked at me questioningly, and I continued, "I just imagine her without any teeth. Every time she talks or smiles, there's nothing but a big gaping hole where her mouth is and then you can't possibly take her seriously."

Georgie began to giggle as she imagined a toothless Caroline Bingley.

"It works, right? No more intimidation there. You just have to promise not to laugh every time she talks because she'll know something's up."

"I promise," she said, sniffling a little and giving her eyes a final wipe, "I'm okay now. Just don't leave me alone with her tonight."

"Deal," I said, shaking her hand.

* * *

_A/N: Buckle up. The weather's been nice, but it's about to get bumpy. And if you're wondering what the song is, it's Big Black Car by Gregory Alan Isakov. Give it a listen, it's lovely._


	14. Chapter Fourteen

I could hear Caroline's nasally voice from down the hallway "-with her? It just seems way too quick if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you," Will said with barely restrained fury as I entered the room with Georgie. Charlie looked as though he wasn't sure whether he should intervene, and seemed grateful for the interruption. Caroline hastily latched her claws into another target.

"Georgie, are you alright, dear? You're so sweet for thinking of Charlie and I, but there was no need to go to the trouble of getting drinks for us."

I could see that Georgie was trying not to smile, and I knew that her new tactic for dealing with Caroline was working. "I'm fine, thanks Caroline."

"How's your playing? Will said that you've been working very hard," she purred, putting a hand on Will's arm. He looked distastefully at it before excusing himself to go check on the plans for dinner.

"Yeah, I've been practicing a lot. Will keeps teething... I mean teasing... me that I'll start playing in my sleep if I'm not careful." Georgie smiled at me and I gave her a discreet thumbs up from the side of my hip.

"Well, you're lucky to have such a good brother to watch out for you," Caroline asserted, and then completely ignored both Georgie and I in favor of talking to her brother for the next thirty minutes, despite Charlie's attempts to bring us back into the conversation. Fortunately, I didn't have much to say to Charlie or Caroline anyway, and Georgie and I had plenty to talk about as we waited for dinner to be ready.

Putting it mildly, dinner was uncomfortable due to the list of unmentionable topics that was getting longer by the hour. Jane, George Wickham, Netherfield... even books seemed to be a prickly topic for some reason. It wasn't long before we had digressed to mostly discussing the weather and the food on the table. But discussing the cornbread we were eating turned into talking about the corn crops at Netherfield, and suddenly the elephant in the room had appeared again. My relatives did an admirable job of keeping the conversation going, but even they seemed relieved to finish dessert and leave to run some errands in town.

I decided it would be an excellent time to get some reading in, preferably in the quiet confinement of my own room.

* * *

"I'm the worst host. I just want them to go away so you and I can spend the next few weeks right here," Will said, tapping a finger emphatically on the floor we were lying on. My legs were tangled up in his, and he was winding a strand of my hair around his other finger distractedly. He had claimed to have business to attend to after dinner, which only amounted to him creeping into my room at the first available opportunity. Not that I minded.

"I think you might get bored with the view after a day or two. Not that you don't have a excellent taste in decor, but staring at floral bedspreads and matching furniture sets isn't exactly the most fascinating way to spend an entire month."

His mouth twitched. "I really don't think I'd get tired of the view," he said as he moved my hair away from my neck, and I felt his warm breath, lips barely brushing my skin. I shivered, and he pulled me over so I was sitting on top of him.

"Mr. Darcy, I thought you were a gentleman!"

"Are you saying that I'm not behaving in a gentleman-like manner?"

"Hardly," I giggled as his hands glided over a ticklish spot on my ribs.

"And how exactly do you think I should behave?" he asked.

"Just as you are. Please continue," I laughed, breath hitching as he pulled me down and kissed me soundly.

"I would never suspend any pleasure of yours," he said between kisses, then rolled his eyes as a loud knock on the door resounded through the room. "Every time!" he muttered.

I got up to open the door, and Will sat up and leaned against the side of the bed. My aunt and uncle stood outside my door looking worried. That is, my uncle looked worried until he saw Will sitting by my bed and I amusedly watched as his eyes narrowed in fatherly disapproval. I guess he was starting to put two and two together.

"Lizzie, I've just had a letter from your father," my aunt said, frowning, "Why don't you sit down?"

"Sit down? I'm not planning on fainting, so..." I trailed off as she didn't crack a smile.

"Okay, now you're scaring me," I sat on my bed, dread surging in to the pit of my stomach, "Is everyone okay?"

"I don't know... he says that Lydia's gone missing."

Well, that wasn't worst case scenario I was expecting. "Gone missing or ran away? You know it's not the first time she's run away from home. Any restriction placed on her she views as corporal punishment, and I know for a fact that Jane has been laying down some ground rules."

"I'm not sure, but it does _sound_ like she ran away. Your father says that she's in New London with George Wickham," my aunt frowned, "isn't she a little young for him? Ed, I think you should join him. You know New London far better than he does."

Amendment to the relief from the letter not being worst case scenario: this could be bad. Exceedingly bad. I glanced at Will, and he seemed to be thinking along the same lines as me. I shook my head almost imperceptibly to let him know that my aunt and uncle were still in the dark as to the full extent of George Wickham's malicious behaviors.

"Lizzie, there's also letter here for you from Jane." My uncle handed me another envelope.

I opened my letter from Jane, apprehension coursing through my veins. It was dated a day later than the one from my father and I scanned the lines, needing to reread several sentences. My brain was getting too far ahead of itself.

"I need to go home," I whispered. I could almost feel the blood draining from my face.

"What is it? What did Jane say?"

I couldn't tell them the contents of the letter without disclosing more information than I was comfortable sharing at the moment. "Just that she's worried and she needs me home to help keep mom from self-destructing."

My aunt looked at my uncle, "Alright, Ed why don't you pack a bag? I'll stay here and keep working while you're gone. And Lizzie, we should figure out how to get you home. That is, if you don't mind Will."

"Of course not. Take what time you need."

I knew that Will could tell I wasn't giving them the whole story, and he stayed in my room after my aunt and uncle left. I shut the door and sat back down on the bed, trying to keep my breathing deep and even.

He put his hand on mine to stop me from wringing them, "What's really going on?"

"Jane says that Lydia didn't run away. Or maybe she did at first, but Wickham has her now and he's not letting her leave. She sent a letter to my family a couple days after she left, no return address, but the cancellation stamp is from New London. Wickham sent a list of demands right after my father left to find her."

"What the hell does he want from you?"

I laughed miserably. "That's just it. He doesn't know that we have nothing. Lydia's been feeding him a bunch of bullshit about having a working car, fuel, heaven knows what else." I shook my head, "I should have seen it. I told him to stay away from us and he threatened-"

"He threatened you? Why didn't you tell me?" He stood up and started pacing.

"No, he didn't threaten me exactly. He said I couldn't keep Lydia away from him."

Will shook his head, biting at his thumb and lost in thought, "I really hate that guy. I know he had a bunch of buddies in New London. Devious, criminal types. It would make sense that she's there," he tapped his finger against his lip, "Okay, I'll give your uncle some names and a few bars that Wickham's crew used to hang out at, and one of us should tell him what Wickham's intentions are. And you... we're going to get you home."

"I'll head into town and see if there's a car I can hire."

"Absolutely not. I'll take you home myself."

"Will, it would take two days days to drive there and another two for you to get back. You have important things to take care of here, I wouldn't ask that of you!" I exclaimed.

"I can get us there much faster than two days, and I have Reynolds to look after things when I'm gone. I won't take no for an answer."

Judging from the determined set of his jaw, I could see this was an argument I wasn't going to win, and frankly, it felt better to know I'd be traveling home with someone. I couldn't imagine sitting in a car for hours by myself or with strangers, letting anxiety eat it's way into my mind. "Alright. Thank you. I'll pack."

"Pack light, there's not much room. You can borrow Georgie's helmet."

"Wait, what?"

"We're taking my motorcycle."

I shook my head incredulously and tried not to laugh, "You have a motorcycle? I thought Richard said you drive like a little old man?"

"Richard thinks that anyone going under sixty miles an hour in a car on crappy roads drives like an old man. I'd argue that it makes them a responsible driver. A bike is much easier to maneuver around debris and potholes than a car, so you can drive faster without the risk of sustaining damage. I'm actually much more comfortable driving it, I just usually need something larger to bring my belongings with me."

"Oh. That actually makes lots of sense." I grew quiet, thinking, obsessing over things I couldn't control.

"Go! Pack! I'm going to talk to your uncle and let Caroline and Charlie know we're leaving. I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes," he said, and I got a glimpse of the take-charge protective owner of the Pemberley Estates. It was understandable why they valued him so highly.

* * *

I said my goodbyes to Georgie and met Will outside, wheeling his motorcycle onto the driveway in the jeans and that leather jacket I'd seen him wearing all the time in Meryton. It fit him like a glove and he looked more like a GQ model on set than a guy that was going to drive me home on dusty back roads. He grabbed my bag and strapped it onto the back of the bike, apologetically handing me a bubblegum colored helmet, "Pink's her favorite color, and it's the only extra one we've got."

"It's fine. Better a pink helmet than brain damage."

"I won't crash, don't worry."

"I think I can promise that crashing is the least of my worries at the moment," I said, giving him what I hoped would pass as a reassuring smile. He squeezed my hand and I slid the helmet over my head. Out of the corner of my visor, I could see the Bingley siblings come out of the door to the garage. Caroline was stomping towards us and Charlie was grabbing at her shoulders, trying to get her to go back in the house.

"Seriously? For heaven's sake, Will, you can stop playing the white knight now. It was cute for like five minutes, but this is crazy. Put your bike away, and let Eliza take a car home. _Everyone_ has to deal with family problems from time to time." Caroline stopped in the driveway, arms folded and eyes narrowed.

Will looked as though he were about ready to bite her face off, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him and stepped towards her, flipping my visor open.

"Hey _Carol_, I have been polite to you from the beginning but I have a tough time keeping my thoughts to myself when I'm stressed. I don't like you. Not in a 'I hope you die' kind of way, more like in a 'I hope you develop a severe allergy to every food but beets' kind of way. Pro tip: When somebody is helping another person with a crisis situation it is not your place to stop them. SO GET THE HELL OFF THE DRIVEWAY."

Caroline blanched and backed up and I vaguely wondered if anyone had ever yelled at her before. I might have felt a little bit bad. If I cared.

I swung my leg over the seat, sitting behind Will and wrapping my arms tightly around his waist as he revved the engine. I rested my head against the back of his shoulder and tried to concentrate on feeling the firm muscle around his torso rather than all the what ifs regarding my sister. Charlie held up a hand in farewell as we sped away.

We drove almost four hours, until it was too dark to see past the headlights and Will starting having trouble staying awake. He pulled off the highway and down a few random side streets, pulling into the driveway of a seemingly uninhabited cape house. He turned the bike off and wheeled it behind a pair of enormous shrubs on the side of the house.

"We'll rest here for the night, and leave in the early morning. If we keep making good time, we should be at your house before noon tomorrow." He unstrapped his pack from the back of his bike, and pulled out a flashlight. Flicking it on, he illuminated the overgrown pathway to the door.

The front door was unlocked, and after a quick check it was abundantly clear that there was no one in the house. We had only seen two cars and a handful of people during the first hour of our journey, and no one for the remainder. Wherever we were, it was a veritable ghost town.

Will pulled the back cushions off a couch and laid a blanket over the sun-bleached and tattered fabric. He sat down and bounced, testing it's comfort. He sighed. "It'll have to do." He pulled a second blanket out of his pack and pushed open a door to one of the adjoining bedrooms.

"What are you doing?" I asked, following him.

"You can sleep in here, the bed will be much more comfortable. I'll take the couch. One of us needs to stay by the door, just in case anyone decides to join us in the night."

"Right." I sat down on the blanket he had laid out, my fingers playing with the fringed edges. I stared numbly at a crack in the wooden floorboards, and wondered if I'd feel better if the whole floor just opened and dropped me in to oblivion.

He paused at the doorway. "Are you doing okay?" he asked softly.

That was it. That was the moment I couldn't keep it in anymore, and I started sobbing. Without a word, he came back to the bed and sat down beside me, putting his arms around me and murmuring quietly into my hair. "This is all my fault!" I cried, my voice breaking, "if I had just said something, none of this would be happening, Lydia would be at home and Wickham would be gone."

He cradled my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs. "This isn't your fault at all, it's mine for not being vocal about his crimes from the beginning," he said, then with more resolve, "No, no the blame is entirely Wickham's! He did this, not us! We'll figure this out and we'll find Lydia. We'll find her!"

I buried my face in his shoulder and tried to calm my ragged breathing, listening to him softly comfort me, rocking me gently back and forth. When my crying died down into sniffling, he rubbed my arms and stood up, grabbing my hands and pulling me to my feet.

"Come on, you shouldn't be alone. I can take the floor," he said, brushing a piece of invisible lint off his pants, something he only seemed to do when he was nervous. "Or if you want to share the couch..." he smiled wryly, "I can't be held responsible for anything I do or say in my sleep."

"I have three sisters," I said, attempting a smile, "Sharing's imprinted into my DNA." I pulled the extra blanket off the mattress and headed back out to the couch, with Will behind me. He lay on his side and I lay next to him, my back pressed against his chest. The heat radiating from his body was soothing, and the rhythmic sound of his breathing against the crook of my neck lulled me into exhausted sleep.

_Footsteps_. I awoke to the tapping sounds outside as the first touches of light were beginning to show through the curtains. I tried to sit up, but one of my arms had fallen asleep, and I shifted in an attempt to regain circulation without startling Will. He groaned, nuzzling his face against the back of my neck and adjusting his arm to pull me more tightly against him. I couldn't tell if he was asleep or not.

"Will?" I whispered.

Nothing.

My arm was still numb, and I moved again, trying to pull my arm out from underneath me. He groaned a second time, his hips pressing against me as he began to murmur my name under his breath.

"Will!" I whispered, more urgently.

He stilled, and I could feel the tension enter his body. He was definitely awake now.

"Someone's outside."

He sat upright, swearing. He crawled over me and crept to the window, stealthily pushing aside a lacy curtain with a forefinger and looking out on to the front lawn. He let out a relieved laugh. "It's just a herd of deer. There's even one walking around on the porch. Good lord, I think that was the fastest I've ever woken up." He rubbed his hands over his face.

I got up and opened the front door. Sure enough, a half dozen deer were roaming around the yard munching on the grass and bushes. A few of them looked up at me blankly and then went back to eating. I frowned, "Does this mean we're not at the top of the food chain anymore? They're not even afraid of us."

"I doubt that many of them have even seen any humans before. Most of these towns were abandoned over five years ago. And speaking of food, we should probably eat and get going. It's almost light out."

I yawned, "Are you going to pull a five course breakfast out of your bag now?"

"Not quite five courses, but I've got fruit and bread. And a thermos of coffee... it retains heat well, so it should still be warm from yesterday."

"Okay, Mary Poppins. If you can pull out bacon and some wet-naps I'll be all set," I said, sniffing my shirt and yawning again, "I smell like the inside of mechanic shop."

"Eau de bike. One of my favorite scents, I'm wearing it too. Very popular in Europe right now," he said, one corner of his mouth tugging upward. He looked at me worriedly as I yawned for a third time, "Did you get any sleep?"

"A little. I was pretty tired."

"The couch wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I think I actually slept fairly well."

"Did you?" I snorted, "you didn't stop moving. You're a very physical sleeper, you know."

"I was having very physical dreams," he said, smiling to himself.

"Anything good?"

Will self-consciously cleared his throat, and began digging his bag for the food he'd packed. "I can't really recall any of the particulars," he said, but the smile that was still plastered on his face indicated otherwise. He tossed me a pear and a slice of bread and we took turns drinking out of the thermos. The coffee was extremely bitter, but I needed the caffeine if I was going to make it home without dozing off.

We repacked and left the little house, several pairs of dark docile eyes unconcernedly tracking our movements. The deer only began running when Will started his bike up, motor echoing thunderously through the neighborhood as we left it behind us. We made good time, and Will pulled on to Longbourne Street by midmorning. My mother and sisters came running outside to see what all the noise was. He shut off the ignition and I jumped down, removing my helmet and pulling a hand through my matted down hair.

"Christ, Lizzie, what on earth are you doing? My nerves are already shot as it is without you riding here on something as loud and dangerous as that!" my mother proclaimed. "I thought you were with Meg and Ed! Who is this? Part of some motorcycle gang? I give you girls one ounce of freedom, and look what happens!"

Poor Jane looked about ready to pull her own hair out, and Kitty looked ready to hop on the motorcycle at the first invitation. I let out an exasperated sigh, "Mom, it's not a gang member, it's Will. As in Will Darcy? The doctor? Netherfield? Pemberley?" Her mouth was still frozen in a disapproving line. "Ring any bells? Anything at all?"

My mother inspected Will closely as he took off his helmet and gave my family a polite nod.

"Well, he shouldn't have put any daughter of mine on the back of that death trap."

"Though your sudden increase in parental concern is _very_ touching, this was the only way I could get home quickly, and Will's a good driver."

"I've always been a concerned parent! Just because I let Lydia go out with that George Wickham a few times doesn't mean I'm not a good mother."

"Wait, you LET her go out with him? Mom! Did the fact that he's a DECADE older than her escape your attention?" I said, incensed that she could have possibly allowed this whole situation to happen.

"She's very mature for her age."

"_Immature_. Immature is the word you're looking for. Mature is the one that means responsible."

She scowled at me, "You don't need to lecture me Lizzie. Besides, I seem to remember you saying some nice things about George."

"We're not having this conversation right now," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose and turning to my sisters, "Have you heard from dad?"

They shook their heads no.

"Great," I muttered, "Well, at least Uncle Ed should be there soon to help him look for her."

"And a whole lot of good that will do if your father gets himself killed," my mother retorted.

"No one is getting killed! Dad will be careful and so will Ed!" I said with far more conviction than I felt, and I felt myself choking up.

Jane stepped forward and threw her arms around me. "Thank you for coming so quickly. I didn't know what to do, and mom is driving me insane," she whispered in my ear, glancing meaningfully at Will, "and you have a _lot_ of explaining to do." She grabbed my bag off the bike, "Is this all you brought with you?"

"Yeah, everything else is still at Pemberley. Ed and Meg will bring it later or something. It's not important right now."

She nodded and shouldered the bag, "I'll bring this upstairs." She put a hand on Will's arm, "Thanks for bringing Lizzie home, Will. You have no idea how relieved I am."

He gave her a half smile, and my mother and sisters went back inside, leaving Will and I alone in my driveway.

We spoke at the same time.

"I could have your stuff sent-"

"Do you want to some inside for-"

"I shouldn't. I really need to get going," he said, frowning and staring in the direction of the road.

"Oh. Yeah, of course," I responded. _Doesn't want to come in. Wants to leave as soon as possible. Wants to mail my stuff back to me so I have no excuse to go back to Pemberley. Makes sense, _I thought bitterly._ What kind of idiot would willingly wish a family like mine on themselves? What a disaster._ "Have a safe trip back."

"Thanks," he said, taking the pink helmet from me and attaching it to the back his bike. "So I guess this is..." he trailed off, reaching out and gingerly touching my cheek. Then he leaned in, placing his lips on mine, tasting, pressing, memorizing. His forehead momentarily rested against mine and he took a deep breath, shoved his helmet back on and threw his leg over the seat of the motorcycle. One last glance at me, and then he was gone. Tiny as a speck of dust flying down the road. Gone, and never coming back.

* * *

_A/N: I'M SORRY, OKAY? Don't be mad at me it's my birthday and there's more to come, promise. (Besides, Lizzie always seems to have the wrong idea, doesn't she? Silly Lizzie.) :)_


	15. Chapter Fifteen

It took approximately two minutes for Jane to come find me. It surprised me that she had enough restraint to hold herself back for even that long.

"Alright, spill! Mom and Kitty may not have seen that goodbye, but I did and I'm pretty sure that one of my ovaries exploded," she said, shutting my bedroom door behind her and staring at me expectantly.

"There's nothing to "spill" Jane. Whatever it was, it's over." I didn't want to look at her, so I just began pulling my clothes out of my bag, refolding and sorting them into arbitrary piles.

"Bullshit! That was the furthest thing from a breakup kiss I've ever seen. I bet if you hadn't known that Mom was ten feet away from you, you two would have been getting all-"

I whirled around. "Yeah, Jane, I'm sure he's planning on coming back after we pull together everything we own to give to George Wickham so we can get our moron sister back. Maybe we'll throw a dinner party and he can sit next to Mom so she can insult him some more. And Dad can wax poetic about what a functional, _normal_ family we are and then make seventeen "that's what she said" jokes in a five minute timespan. Oh wait, we're not going to be able to have a party and embarrass ourselves because we'll HAVE NOTHING and we'll be the cautionary tale for EVERYONE in town!"

My sister pursed her lips and gave me her wounded puppy face, a look she only pulled out in moments of extreme desperation, and I instantly regretted snapping at her. I sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just... remember when I told you about Rosings, how he said that our family couldn't keep themselves out of trouble? He's right. We're dangerous. It's one thing speculating about it, it's another thing seeing it happen. He's sensible, Janey. He's not going to stick around, despite his feelings. He has too much at stake."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Lizzie. I know what I saw," she said, flopping backwards onto my bed, narrowly missing my neatly folded stack of shirts and socks.

"Charlie was at Pemberley."

There was a long pause. "Charlie who?"

I rolled my eyes, "Charlie Chaplin. Did you know he's both silent _and_ black and white in real life? You know who."

"How was he?" she asked, disinterestedly picking up a pair of my socks and rolling them into a ball.

"Honestly? Pining away. He didn't look good."

Jane smiled slightly, "That shouldn't make me happy, but it does. A little."

"It should," I sat down next to her and plucked the socks out of her hands. "He's never going to find anyone as good as you." She grimaced a little and obviously still didn't want to talk about it, even after all the months that had passed. "So. I guess it's time for you to tell me everything you know about what happened to Lydia."

"There's not much more that you don't already know. Mom let her go out to see George one evening, though Lydia told me she was visiting Denny. When she didn't come home that night, no one was particularly worried except me, but what could I do? She had been missing for two days before we got the letter from her and Dad left, and another day before we got the list from George. Both were postmarked from New London," Jane said, staring blankly up at the ceiling. I could tell the last few days had taken quite a toll on her.

"What's on his list?" I asked hesitantly. I almost didn't want to know.

"The car we don't really have. The fuel we definitely don't have. He also asked for a dozen firearms, six months worth of grain and jerky, various medicines, blankets, flashlights... it's a really long list. He said we have a week and a half and then he'll tell us where to bring everything."

"And then what? He'll just let her go?"

"He just said, and I quote, 'if we want to see her again'."

I bit at my nails in frustration. "What if he kills her?"

"Lizzie! Don't say that!"

"I'm serious Jane! First of all, even someone with every resource at their disposal couldn't get all those things in as little as a week and a half. Secondly, since it's not like there's a police force available to go after him, what's going to happen when he figures out we don't have what he wants? You think he'll just give us an extra week? Decide he's willing to take less than what he asked for?" I shook my head, "He could just tie her up and leave her somewhere to starve."

"So what are you saying?"

"We have to find her. Before the week is up. _That's_ our only option. Have you done anything? Gone into Meryton and asked about him?"

"No, Dad went straight to New London, and I wrote you. That's it," she sighed.

"Alright. I'm going in to town to see what I can dig up."

There wasn't much digging to be done in town since no one knew the specifics of our predicament, and I was hesitant to enlighten them. Telling anyone wasn't really going to help our situation. The only thing I learned was that one other guard had suspiciously ducked town the same night as George. Jim Forester was annoyed by it, but only because it meant that he had to find two more people to fill their places. I couldn't find Denny anywhere, and no one else seemed to remember seeing Lydia or George the evening they disappeared.

I left a message for Denny with Jim, asking him to meet me as soon as he could at my house, and then I returned home. Denny didn't come by that day, or the day after, and I spent the majority of my time cooking and cleaning, keeping myself as occupied as I possibly could. A brief letter came from my father, but there was still no news. They hadn't found Lydia.

Denny showed up at our house two full days after I'd talked to Jim, apologetic it had taken so long. Jim had been so preoccupied with interviewing for the two new positions that he'd completely forgotten to pass my message along to Denny.

"Where's Lydia?" he asked, confused that I was the one who had asked him to our house.

"That seems to be the question of the week. She's somewhere in New London. When did you last see her?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Oh, I don't know, a week ago maybe? Thursday night?"

"The night she disappeared. And George was with her?"

"Yeah, he was."

"Douchebag," I muttered.

"Wait, do think they went to New London _together_ or something?"

"Or something," I said sarcastically, "Let's just say they went missing at the same time."

"I think that's just a coincidence. They're not together, I saw George yesterday. He said that working as a guard wasn't doing it for him, but he was embarrassed to tell Jim Forester, so he just left. Wanted to keep a low profile so he asked if I could get some things from the market for him."

"_He's still here_?"

"As far as I know..." A crease had formed between Denny's brow.

"Where? Where did you meet him?"

"He came to me. Met me outside the guard housing."

"Where did he go? Was he on foot? Was anyone with him?" The words were tumbling out of my mouth, and Denny looked beyond confused.

"God Lizzie, I don't know! Yeah he was on foot, just him, and I have no idea where he went. Couldn't have been too far though, he had a lot to carry."

I sat down, stunned. George was still here. And if George was still here, chances were that Lydia was somewhere close by.

Denny shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I'll let him know you're looking for him if I see him again."

"No! No, don't say anything. It's important, Denny."

He frowned, but nodded. "Alright."

After he left, I sat in the livingroom, thoughts and scenarios running through my head. I was missing something, some piece of the puzzle. The only bit of information I hadn't combed over were the letters, so I asked Jane where they were. She pulled them out from my father's desk and handed them to me. Just touching George's letter made me upset, and I stifled the urge to throw it into the fireplace. I turned Lydia's letter over in my hands.

_Bennets... or Family, or am I supposed to name all of you? Whatever._

_By now, I'm sure you know that I've gone with George. He says you'll get another letter soon and everything will be explained. I've been remin- reminis, oh hell, THINKING about alot of stuff on my trip here. Like about all these things we did when we were kids, you know? I miss our trips to Cape Cod in the summer. And remember that time that we found those bunnies in a box on the way home from school? I wish we'd gotten to keep them. And I guess I just want to say that I'm sorry for a lot of stuff, like kissing Kitty's boyfriend, Jefferson, or that time I spilled red nail polish all over Jane's prom dress. I love you all, and I hope I'll see you soon. Just do what George says. Tell Kitty she can have my tank top with the stars on it, but if she touches my mini skirts I'll kill her._

_Love,_

_Lydia_

"This is the weirdest letter I've ever read," I said, staring at the page, "do you think he drugged her? This doesn't make any sense. The Cape makes sense, but do you remember finding a bunny in a box when we were kids? Ever?"

"No. I remember that box of kittens, but not a bunny."

"Oh yeah... you wanted to keep them and name them all after My Little Pony characters," I chuckled.

"I never claimed to have good taste at age eleven," Jane said slightly insulted, "And Kitty's never had a boyfriend… Lydia's never stopped harassing her about it, and I don't know anyone named Jefferson, do you?"

"Unless a lot's happened while I was gone," I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Well, you seem to have acquired a boyfriend while you've been gone, so maybe it's not _that_ unlikely."

"Jane, that's not helping."

"Sorry," Jane shook her head. "She spilled blue nail polish on my dress, not red. I definitely would have remembered. It was an hour before prom, and I remember thinking it was lucky that it blended in with my blue dress." She frowned, "So are we talking about mind-altering drugs or do you think she's trying to tell us something?"

I considered it. "I have a feeling that Wickham would rather take the drugs himself, not use them to coerce girls to take a trip down memory lane with their families."

"So then what do bunnies, someone named Jefferson, and red nail polish all have in common?" Jane mused.

It hit me like a punch to the stomach. "Not someone. Somewhere."

"What?"

I let out a breath and raked my hands through my hair, scarcely knowing what to do with myself. "Jefferson. Jefferson Road. Holy shit. Geo is George, Jane. George is Geo. I've been such an idiot!"

"Lizzie?"

"Jane I think I know where she is."

"Explain. Now."

I took a deep breath, "I had an almost run-in a few months ago with a bunch of guys at a house I was emptying," I watched Jane's expression harden and I winced, "I know, I know. Can't do anything about it now. Anyway, there was a red spray painted bunny graffiti by the door, Jefferson road. I never saw the guys that came in, but one of them called another one "Geo". They were into some pretty rough stuff, one of them had been shot."

"Lizzie, what are the chances that you were in the same house that Lydia's now being kept in?"

"There I two things I don't believe in Jane, unicorns and coincidences. I've never seen a unicorn, and she's there now or she was there at some point. Either way, I'm going to find out."

"I don't like this at all," Jane said, mouth narrowing into a straight line.

"I'm not going to go all Rambo on him if he's there. But if he is, and more importantly, if she is, then I'll go get help. You're going to stay here, and if I'm not back in three hours, you're going to go get help."

Jane exhaled loudly. "Okay. Okay, but promise me! Nothing stupid!"

"Promise. I just need to grab a couple things, and then I'm heading over. I'll draw you a map before I leave."

While I drew out directions Jane helped me pack, stuffing a coil of rope and extra pair of scissors into one of the zippered pockets along with the usual tools I took on my excursions. "Oh! I almost forgot!" She ran upstairs and came hurtling back down with a bright orange and black firearm that I recognized from an old emergency kit we used to take hiking with us. "Look what I found the other day! You're taking this."

I let out a laugh. "A flare gun? Jane, if I see George I'm running the hell away from him, not signaling the air force."

I was awarded with a small smile. "Just take it okay? It's probably safer for self defense than your knife."

It was a short trip to Jefferson Road, probably because I've never walked so quickly or with so much purpose in my life. I would have ran there but I didn't want my footsteps to alert anyone of my presence.

I sat in the woods for almost an hour watching the house. There were no noises save for the occasional bird chirping and squirrels crashing through the trees; no steps on the pavement, no screaming coming from inside the house. Just quiet. I stood up, and slowly circled around to the back of the house where there was more cover from the woods, giving the entire property a wide berth. I couldn't see any activity through the windows from as far back as I was, so I cut across the lawn and briefly stopped behind a shed to make sure I hadn't been seen. No movement. I made my way to the far side of the house, pressing my back against peeling wooden siding.

I cautiously leaned over to peer through one of the windows to the kitchen. Nothing noteworthy. Just a bunch of rusted pans piled onto a countertop and dust covering everything. I could see dirty handprints all over the kitchen table, but it could have easily been from the last time George and his crew were there. I crossed by the exterior of the kitchen to the left side of the house, looking in to the window of a bedroom or den. Empty. I was about to move on to the next window when a noise from the room captured my attention. It was just a quiet tapping sound, but it made an distinct impression in the absence of other noises. It was then that I noticed the shoe, a bright purple slip on, sticking ever so slightly out of a closet.

I internally debated going in through the front door or through the bedroom window, quickly deciding that although the door might be a little quieter, it would be too exposed for my comfort. It didn't look like the window was latched, but there was no way I could fit my fingers underneath the lower sash to open it. I put down my pack and pulled out my knife. It was just thin enough to slide underneath and give me enough leverage to open it an inch. The window creaked under the pressure and I gritted my teeth and held my breath as I opened it wide enough to crawl through, saying a silent prayer of thanks when no one came running into the room. I slid through head first.

I crossed the floor and opened the closet door, almost crying for joy at the sight of Lydia's dirty face, rag stuffed in her mouth and arms tied to a chair. Her eyes grew wide as I untied the cloth from around her mouth.

"Lizzie! Oh my god, what are you doing here? He'll be back any minute!" she whispered.

"I'm getting you out here. Jesus Lydia, did he hurt you?"

"No, no he just leaves me in here for hours at a time. He did try to make me play chess with him though, so that should count as it's own special brand of torture. How did you find me? Was it my note?"

I stopped sawing at the ropes binding her arms to the chair to hug her tightly, "Yes, you idiot, it was your note. Very clever. NEVER put yourself in this position again." Two more swipes from my knife and the ropes were severed, "Okay, let's get out of here."

"Uh, Lizzie?"

"Yeah?"

She wiggled her feet and I noticed the pair of shiny metal handcuffs that were wrapped around her slim ankles. "You've got to be shitting me."

I rubbed my hands over my face, willing some solution to pop into my head. "Is there a key or something?"

"Yeah, George keeps it on cord around his neck."

"Typical villain," I huffed.

"Lizzie?"

"I'm not going to leave you Lydia, so don't even say it."

"_Leave_ me? God no! I was going to suggest that you _carry_ me. You thought about leaving me!?"

I gave a snort of laughter. Why on earth I thought my sister would suddenly start thinking beyond her own welfare was beyond me. However, it did appear to be our only viable option. "Alright, baby steps to the window though."

I helped Lydia stand up, and jumped out the window ahead of her, watching as she stiffly made her way across the room. She put her arms through the opening and I pulled her though to the other side, setting her down on her feet. As I knelt down to zip up my pack, a cold voice froze me in place.

"Hey Lizzie. Going somewhere?"

Pack in hand, I stood up and turned around. George Wickham, with his hands in his pockets, stood a few yards in front of us looking as cool as a cucumber. I could see the faint outline of the key to the handcuffs though his shirt, damn him.

"Yeah, Wickham. The food at this resort sucks so we're going home." Lydia glared at him venomously.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I didn't ask you because you're not leaving," he said, glancing at me, "and since two Bennet girls are better than one, so actually, neither of you are leaving."

Behind my back I was slowly reaching into my bag, right hand wrapping around the handle of the flare gun. I needed him to keep talking.

"You and what army are going to stop us, Wickham?"

He laughed and it sent shudders running up and down my spine. "You think I'm in this alone? How do you think I sent those letters to you from New London without actually leaving Meryton? Saw your dad take off in a hurry, so obviously _he_ bought it. Chad and Cam will be back this afternoon... should be any minute now, actually."

"Why? I don't get it. You could work for a living instead of stealing and lying and constantly trying to kidnap girls that you coerce into liking you. It didn't work out for you at Pemberley, and it's not going to work out for you now."

He chuckled, "So you've been talking to Darcy, huh? This is too perfect! I thought he might have a thing for you. He going to be _so_ pissed when he finds out that I-"

He stopped talking when he realized that I was pointing a flare gun at his face. He put his hands slightly up in the air, still grinning. "Lizzie, do you really think I'd hurt you? Look, let's just talk about this, and we'll see if we can work something out." He took a step towards us.

"Wrong direction Wickham. Throw me the key to the handcuffs, and step back."

"Okay, okay, it's in my back pocket," he said, and began reaching behind his back for what was definitely not the key.

I pulled the trigger on the flare gun, and flare shot out with a resounding thwack. The cartridge whizzed at him, slicing him in the arm before erupting into a bouncing orange pile of fire behind him. Not exactly the outcome I'd been hoping for, but flares aren't exactly designed for accuracy. The blow knocked him to the ground, and he grabbed his arm in pain as blood started blooming through the sleeve of his shirt.

I took the opportunity to throw Lydia's arms over my shoulders, and grabbing her waist and running as fast as I was able. I only managed a dozen steps before I heard the safety of a gun click off. "Stop right there."

George was up again, bleeding, but not looking very worried about it. More like looking very irritated about it, as he pointed his gun at me.

"If it's a ransom you're after, I don't think I'm much use to you dead, moron." I sneered at him.

"No, but you wouldn't be going anywhere with a bullet in your leg. You know, I like you when you're all fiery and upset. It's pretty hot," he said, giving me a lewd once over with his eyes, "Darcy's too uptight to give you what you need. You need a real man like me to handle you."

"Exhibit A, asshole: Nobody "handles" me. Exhibit B: There aren't any men here," I watched with some amusement as George rolled his eyes, unaware that the punchline was still coming. "Oh, except for the ones from the Meryton guard that have their guns pointed at your head."

"Put the gun down, Wickham. We have you surrounded!" A loud voice boomed from behind a tree. A couple more shouts from other guards echoed around me as they moved into position. Wickham paled and dropped his weapon, looking around wildly as three guards ran out from the side of the house, tackling Wickham and throwing him to the ground. Jim Forester emerged from the tree line, several other guards following.

"Looks like we got here just in time," Jim said, surveying the damage on Wickham's arm. "Glad to see you got a shot in though. You alright?"

"Yeah," I said, putting my arm around Lydia, who to my annoyance was eyeing one of the guards with extreme interest, "We're alright. We'd really like to go home."

"Of course," Jim said, taking the key to the handcuffs that one of the guards had ripped off of Wickham's neck. He knelt down and unshackled Lydia's feet, "Mind if I take these?" Lydia nodded and I watched with delight as then he wrapped them around George's wrists. Irony is a wonderful thing sometimes.

George was face down and though muffled, I could still hear every word he was saying. "There are two sides to every story, you know! Just because they're girls and you know them doesn't mean they're telling the truth."

Jim wasn't having it. "There may be two sides to every story Wickham," he said, "but I'm pretty sure that you're the hardened criminal in both of them." He walked back over to Lydia and I, "accidentally" kicking George in his injured arm on the way.

As relieved as I was, something wasn't adding up for me. "Why are there so many of you here? You guys aren't the police. I figured _you_ might come if asked, but there's..." I turned around and counted, "at least a dozen guys here."

"With enough incentive, these guys can be hired to do anything," Jim smiled.

"Hired? But Jane..."

"Don't worry yourself about it Lizzie. It's already taken care of. Now get home," he said, walking away.

It wasn't the response I was expecting, but I wasn't about to argue. "Ready?" I asked Lydia, and she nodded, linking her arm in mine as we began to walk.

"Wait, Jim!" I said, turning around, "You might want to stick around a little while longer. Wickham told me his buddies, Cam and Chad are coming by later. I'm sure they'd love to share a cell."

Jim's brow wrinkled in puzzlement, "We already got them. They were picked up yesterday in New London."

Now it was my turn to be puzzled. My father and Ed must have been successful in New London after all. It hardly mattered how it had come about, the fact remained that we were alright. And for now, that was all we needed.

* * *

It was a non-stop Bennet women hug-fest at my house.

"Oh, Mom, it was _horrible_. I'm going to have STDP. Or PDTS. Or whatever that thing is when something terrible happens to you. Can I go hang out with Denny tonight?" my sister said with her face buried in my mother's sweater.

"Anything you need, honey. Anything at all," she said. I stared daggers at her from across the mass of hugging arms, and she gave a hesitant cough, "Well, maybe Lydia, you should stay home for a few days. Just a few, and then we'll talk about it."

"Fiiine," Lydia pouted, "But can I at least not do chores for a while? I really need to get some rest."

My mother raised her eyebrows questioningly at me, waiting to see if I'd object. I shrugged. It wasn't like Lydia did much around the house anyway, and if that was all it took to make her happy enough to stay at home and out of trouble for a while, so be it. My mother nodded at her, and Lydia happily skipped up to her room with Kitty in tow.

"She's never going to grow up, is she?" I sprawled my whole body out on the couch, exhausted.

"Nope." Jane nudged my shoulder, and I moved over just enough so she could sit by my head, almost as tired as I was.

"Jane, I owe you everything. If you had waited a full three hours to find Jim, I'm not sure what would have happened. Actually, I think best case, I'd have been shot in the leg. Worst case-" I trailed off.

"Lizzie, I didn't go to Jim," Jane said, perplexed, "You got back here before the three hours were even up... I was still waiting."

"Then how did he know where to go? How did he even know what was happening? We never told him."

She shook her head, "I have no idea."

"I'm going to go talk to Jim in the morning," I said, "This whole situation is so weird, I can't make sense out of how we came out of it unscathed."

Jane nodded in agreement.

My father and Ed returned the next morning, before I'd had time to visit Jim or even eat breakfast. They were exhausted but beaming at the sight of our whole family together. After my father vowed to not let Lydia out of his sight until she was forty, I found myself sitting with my uncle and asking about every detail that could explain the mysteries surrounding the past few days.

It wasn't until I questioned Ed about the capture of Wickham's companions that things began to become clear.

"Lizzie, I promised I wouldn't say anything..."

"You promised who you wouldn't say anything?"

"If I told you who, I'd be breaking my promise," Ed retorted, but I could tell he was already cracking.

"Ed, you've never been able to keep a secret. Remember Christmas in 2001? When you bought all of us season passes to the amusement park and you accidentally told us a month beforehand during Thanksgiving when you had too much wine? Don't start keeping people's secrets now. You'll ruin your reputation."

"Fine. Fine, it was Will. He found them. Hired some tough guys to get Cat and Chad or Cam and Chet... whatever their names were, drunk, and they practically blabbed the whole thing. Then there was a fight, three against two, so pretty good odds. Will took a few punches, but he gave better than he got. Knocked 'em both out and tied them to the back of my van. He promised not to hurt them if they told him where Lydia was, and they did."

That was certainly not the secret I was expecting, though it still didn't make complete sense. "So then you sent Jim a letter giving him Lydia's whereabouts?"

Ed looked surprised, "No, Will came back here and told Jim himself. He said he was going to personally hire a bunch of the Meryton guard to go get Lydia. You didn't see him?"

I shook my head.

"Well, I doubt Will expected that you would be at the house with Wickham, you were supposed to be here. How did _you_ figure it out anyways?"

"Massive coincidence. Or divine providence. I haven't decided yet," I rubbed at my temples, "Ed, that's crazy though... the guard wouldn't just go on an excursion like that for a few weeks of food or clothing."

"No, I believe it was a very hefty payment."

I covered my face with my hands, exhaling. I had been so wrong about Will. Though I already liked him, a lot, I realized that the man that I had initially thought to be cold, uncaring, and conceited, had just proved himself without a doubt to be the most lovingly generous and dependable person I had ever met.

And when the next day Charlie came knocking on our door, asking for Jane, I couldn't escape the feeling that the whole world had just dropped out from underneath my feet.

* * *

_A/N: Almost there! For every follow/fav/review, Wickham gets punched in the junk. Okay, maybe not, but your feedback does make me stupidly happy. xoxo_


	16. Chapter Sixteen

I would have missed him completely if I hadn't been coming home at the same time he was standing at our doorstep, looking as though he'd give anything to be knocking on the gates to Hell rather than the Bennet family's front door. He gaped at me briefly, before guiltily staring down at his feet.

"Charlie?" I peered over at him, closing the distance between us and dropping the pile of firewood I'd collected, "What are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

He sighed and sat down on the steps. "I can't do this, I should just go home. She hates me, right? Because I'd hate me. Come to think of it, I _do_ hate me. I've been the biggest idiot."

"Can't say I wholly disagree with the idiot part," I said, sitting beside him on the steps, "but I don't think she completely hates you. If you grovel... a lot... you _might_ have a chance. But we're talking six dozen white roses, French chocolates, maybe a mariachi band..." Charlie glanced at me, startled, and I continued, "I know those things might be difficult to procure, but if that's what it takes, you need to be prepared."

Charlie was nodding, and I grinned at both his gullibility and willingness to do anything to win Jane back. "I'm kidding Charlie, not that it would hurt your chances, but Jane never cared about stuff like that. She just needs to know she can count on you. And you might want to have a really good apology thought out."

He was playing with something, moving it from hand to hand, and belatedly I realized it was an engagement ring.

"Woah, Charlie-"

"She needs to know that I'm serious..."

"She's still pissed at you. She's not going to say yes right now."

"That's okay. But she still needs to know how I feel."

I nodded, internally cringing at my forecast for how Charlie's proposal was going to go.

He turned his head and studied me as if noticing for the first time that I was sitting next to him. "How are you? I heard you have Lydia back, safe and sound."

"And I heard we have Will to thank for it," I said, looking Charlie straight in the eyes.

"How did you know-"

"A little bird. Let's leave it at that." I almost didn't want to ask, but I couldn't bring myself not to. "How is he?"

"He's good. Better than I've ever seen him, actually. He told me to never take his advice again and practically kicked me out of Pemberley to send me back here. He's taking care of a few things, and I think he'll be at Netherfield pretty soon," he grinned, "I doubt he could stay away for long if you're here."

A little swell of happiness surfaced where so much doubt had entrenched itself, but I didn't want to get my hopes up for fear of reality setting in. "Charlie, you don't need to tell me that to make me feel better. I know better than anyone what he thinks of my family's situation."

"Lizzie, he cares about you. You know that."

I smiled ruefully, "I know. But I also know that he's smart and he's got enough people to take care of."

Charlie was chuckling, shaking his head, "You still don't get it, do you? Do you know _why _he's back at Pem_-_" Charlie ceased laughing and turned almost green as the front door swung open and Jane stood in the doorframe, hands on her hips and glaring back and forth between both me and Charlie.

"Really?" she deadpanned, and turned around, walking back inside without bothering to close the door.

"I'm gonna... go..." I whispered, patting Charlie on the back, "Good luck."

He gave me a sick smile, turned an even paler shade of green, and went inside. I stood outside long enough to hear the sound of something breaking, and decided to vacate when I saw Charlie running out the door with Jane hot on his heels and brandishing a waste basket. I smiled. I had little doubt that Charlie could earn her forgiveness eventually, he just needed to be persistent and unwavering. But he had certainly earned everything he was getting at the moment.

When I returned a little while later, I found Jane in her room. Her door was open and she was lying on her bed, hair fanned out around her head like a golden halo, reading a trashy romance novel and sighing every time she turned the page. I quietly cleared my throat, and she dropped her book onto her chest with an aggravated groan.

"Sooo..." I said slowly, wondering how to talk to her about Charlie without being as nosy as my other sisters. Perhaps it was a job for Lydia.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It's okay, I'll give you some space," I said, holding my hands up and backing out of her room.

"It's just..." she began, and I smiled at how quickly her resolve had broken.

"Just what?" I encouraged.

"I can't just let him back into my life because he wants it, right? I feel like I'd be a disappointment to women everywhere if I forgave him so easily for everything he's put me through."

"Jane, it's your life. It'd only be disappointing if you based your decisions on what other people thought of you. What do _you_ want?"

The answer was clearly written all over her face.

"So, make him do a little penance and give him another chance," I said. "Did he... uh... ask you anything?"

"You're wondering if I saw the ring."

I grinned at her. "I'm assuming you said no?"

"I threw it in the waste basket and chased him out with it."

"Ouch, Jane. That's harsh, especially from you. Not that he didn't completely deserve it. Why don't we keep it somewhere... less inclined to go into the fireplace, just for now?"

She blushed, "I took it out already. It's in my sock drawer."

"Oh, good," I said, eying her mischievously, "Did it fit okay? On your finger?"

"Yeah, it wasn't snug at al- Lizzie!" she exclaimed, turning the deepest shade of pink I'd ever seen, "That was unfair! Not a word! To anyone, especially Charlie!"

I laughed, "I promise. Is it pretty? I didn't get a good look at it."

"Yes, it's beautiful," she said, pulling it out of the top drawer of her bureau and handing it to me. I examined the bright and shiny ring, watching the giant solitaire diamond set in the center twinkle in the light from the window.

"Well I suppose this alleviates _some_ of the resentment, no?"

"A very little," she said with a smile, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before the ring would be permanently on her finger.

* * *

As I predicted, Charlie came by every day from Netherfield. It took two days before Jane was willing to talk to him. Another three before she held his hand when they walked to the market together. A day after that, I caught them passionately making out behind our house. And then all of her determination to keep him at bay broke spectacularly into nothing and she was radiating happiness while wearing his ring on her left hand.

I was thrilled for her, as any good sister would be. If anyone deserved to be blissfully content with their life, it was most certainly Jane. But my happiness for her was tempered with the underlying distress that Will had still not returned, and it seemed more clear to me with every day that passed that he wouldn't.

The only person happier than Jane and Charlie was my mother. She immediately began planning Jane's wedding and subsequent honeymoon, and poor Jane looked about ready to die of embarrassment when my mother started blathering about grandchildren in front of Charlie and our younger sisters.

I elbowed Charlie, "It's not too late to elope you know."

"And miss getting to see you make a touching sisterly toast in a hideous maid of honor gown? Never. Or we could wait for you to get engaged and have a double wedding." He considered it thoughtfully, "We'd save on a minister. Save on the church. Only have to deal with Collins once..."

"Not unless you plan on having a lifetime engagement, since I'll probably die an old maid. I'll knit socks from electrical wiring for all of my nieces and nephews. And I'll have seventeen feral cats and a bad habit of collecting CD's to use as installation art."

"I heard you like iPods better."

My face flamed. "You know nothing about that Charles Bingley, so I'm going to pretend you didn't go there."

He grinned. "Au contraire, I know _all_ about that. What I didn't get from Will I got out of Georgie. And if Will isn't back here in the next week I'll let your mother pick the names of all our future kids."

Jane broke out of the conversation she was having with our sisters, and turned to Charlie, "I didn't just hear you put the names of our unborn children in jeopardy, did I? You do know that my mother wanted to name me Bentley, right? Bentley Bennet..." She shuddered.

"_In jeopardy_ would insinuate that I could be wrong, which I'm not, so no," he replied, planting a kiss on her head.

"Okay, good," she replied and went back to discussing dress colors with Kitty.

Charlie scrunched up his face, muttering, "Bentley Bennet... Bentley _Bingley_."

Despite the teasing nature of Charlie's comments, the little spark of hope that had been withering away lit up again, and I went to bed that night thinking of writing Will a letter in the morning. It wouldn't hurt to at least thank him for everything he'd done. Maybe drop a few hints that I should collect the remainder of my belongings. Visit for a while. Climb him like a... _no! Stop it Lizzie!_

It was so sunny and comfortably warm the following morning that I decided to work outside before sitting down to write any letters. I was in the garden, harvesting some of the last of our cauliflower and cabbage when I heard the car. There was only one person I knew that would drive a car to my house, and a ridiculous grin spread across my face as I tried to unsuccessfully wipe the dirt off of my face and tame my hair. Oh well, it's not like he hadn't seen me sweaty and covered in grime before. He almost seemed to prefer it.

The car pulled up, and I could see the silhouette of square, masculine shoulders in the driver's seat. _Calm down_, I thought, but my heart was racing. The driver opened his door and stepped out, and I almost ran to him, until I realized that the driver wasn't Will, and he was opening the passenger door to the car. And out of the passenger door stepped... Catherine DeBourgh, and I'll admit it. My jaw dropped.

She was wearing one of her giant fake fur coats, despite it being a warm autumn day, and I wouldn't have even seen the Pomeranian she had in the crook of her arm if it hadn't growled at me. It took all of my willpower not to growl back at it. I wondered how many people she'd had to kill or threaten in order to obtain a pure bred dog in the months since I'd seen her.

"Catherine? What are you-" I began to ask.

"So this is where you live?" she interrupted me, looking at my house the way most people look at open head wounds. And brussel sprouts.

"Yes," I replied, mustering up a bright smile, "This is where I live. I'd invite you inside but if you don't like the outside, you'll probably like the interior even less."

She made a "hmmpf" sound, and stood stroking her dog and scowling at me. I was waiting for her to put her pinky in her mouth and ask me for a million dollars in her best Dr. Evil voice, but unfortunately it didn't seem to be going in that direction.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here," she said finally.

"Meryton's lovely in the Fall. I assumed you were here for the leaves," I answered, unwilling to gratify her.

"Well, I'll tell you," she said, as though I'd asked, "I've heard something very alarming, and I'm here to make sure it's the falsity I know it is."

I sighed dramatically, "Okay. I admit it." Catherine looked at me disgustedly, and I continued my confession, "I snuck an extra biscuit off the plate when we had tea at your house. I'm sorry, but it was delicious and I was hungry, and I don't regret it."

"Miss Bennet! If you think that I came here to be mocked by you, think again! I've heard a rumor that you're engaged to Will, and I won't leave until I hear you tell me that it's a lie. I'm sure that it was you that started it, but it ends here."

"Wait, you drove all the way here because you _don't_ think that Will and I are engaged?"

"It's impossible," she said, nodding.

I shrugged. "Then why go to the trouble of driving here? Oh, did the guy that writes your letters for you quit again? You poor thing. Cheeky servants."

She ignored my sarcasm. "He's already engaged to Anne."

"Does he know that?"

"It's been my plan since his parents died."

"So he doesn't know." I leaned in really close to her, away from the side that was housing her vicious growly hamster. That's right. I called it a hamster. "You might want to tell him that, so he doesn't... you know," I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "inadvertently become a polygamist."

"I don't care what _you_ do," she looked me up and down, "off the record. Mistress, hook-up, whore, whatever you want to call yourself, fine. But I'll be damned if he's not Anne's husband in name, and our estates are not joined together by marriage. Does that clear things up for you?"

"I comprehend you just fine, Ms. DeBurgh. And now you can leave because I can't imagine that you could have anything further to insult me with."

She scoffed, "Please. Girls like you are a dime a dozen, you don't care who you throw your bodies at. Tell me, are you engaged to him?"

I was vaguely impressed that she actually did have more things to insult me with. I fought back with an evasive retort, if only to further irritate her. "Didn't you hear? I'm a dime a dozen. How could someone like me possibly be engaged to marry into a family like yours?"

"Stop avoiding my question! Are you?" she demanded.

I hesitated momentarily before deciding that it was more than time to end the conversation. "No."

She sighed with relief. "Was that so hard? Now, promise me that you will never enter into an engagement with him."

"No. Now get out."

"No?" she echoed, incredulously.

"No. As in, "no", I don't promise. Does that clear things up for you?" I said, mocking her own words.

She didn't move, didn't say a anything, but her mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, trying to form words. As entertaining as it was to watch, I was angry enough to not want to wait around for her to leave, so I grabbed my basket of vegetables and walked as proudly as I could back to the house. Only when I heard her car's ignition start and the grinding of the broken pavement as the tires ran over it did I allow myself to feel hurt. Horrible woman.

"She looked pretty fancy. Who was that?" My mother asked, glancing out the window at the car that was driving away.

"No one of consequence," I replied.

My mother didn't seem to buy it. "Well, whoever she was, she didn't look very pleasant. I hope you gave her a piece of your mind before you kicked her off our property."

"I might have."

"That a girl," she said, kissing my cheek and walking off to the kitchen, leaving me to wonder where my supportive mother had been all my life.

* * *

When my father, who doesn't have a frivolous bone in his body, began talking about getting flowers and ribbon for the wedding, I knew it was time to get out of the house. Under the pretense of working, I gave everyone the address of the house I was salvaging, packed lunch and a lighthearted novel, and set out for the day. Truth was, I had already emptied the house days ago. It was an escape; A full day of reading while not having to hang out at Wedding Talk Central. I couldn't be surrounded by that much love and affection and taffeta without constantly thinking about Will.

It was early afternoon when I heard it, long before I could see it; the distant humming of a motorcycle engine. At least I knew it wasn't his aunt this time. I wasn't sure what to think of his arrival, as it had taken so long for him to come back around, and heaven only knew what Catherine had said to him. I felt like I was in perpetual relationship limbo.

He found me on the roof of the enclosed porch, lying on my back and looking up at the sky, just as we had at Pemberley. He lay down next to me, turning on his side, one corner of his mouth curled up into a crooked smile and I could see faint bruises coloring one of his cheekbones. Without thinking I reached out and gently ran my fingers across it, and he closed his eyes and grabbed my hand, pressing it against his cheek. The warmth and intimacy of it startled me, and I could sense my feelings drifting into dangerous territory. I pulled my hand back, wedging it underneath me in case it developed any more rebellious ideas.

"I need to thank you... for what you did. I know my uncle promised you not to say anything, but I wouldn't let it go until all the pieces fit into place. Why didn't you want me to know what you had done for my family?" I asked, studying the cuts on his knuckles that hadn't quite healed.

"I didn't do it for them, I did it for you. I just didn't want you to think you owed me anything, or feel something for me out of gratitude. I needed to know that you're safe and happy, which is far more gratifying than being thanked." He looked so earnest, and I think it was in that moment that I finally grasped the depths of his loyalty to his friends and family. "And besides, I know better than anyone what it's like to almost lose a sister to that wanker. I couldn't let it happen"

"I don't know what I would have done if Jim and the guards hadn't shown up when they did," I admitted wryly, "I think Wickham was fairly pleased to have the opportunity to ransom off two of us instead of just Lydia,"

Will sat up sharply on his elbows, "What do you mean, _two of us_? You were there?"

"I figured out where she was and almost had her out of there. Would have had her out of there if that bastard hadn't handcuffed her feet together." Will was staring at me intensely, dark brows raised, waiting for me to continue. "I shot him with a flare gun. That was pretty satisfying. I would have preferred something with slightly better aim though, I only nicked his arm. And he was still able to pull his gun on us before we could get away."

Will's mouth hung open, in absolute horrified shock. "So you found him before the guard got there? You were _with_ Lydia, _and_ Wickham had a gun on you? Lizzie, I thought you were safe inside your house with your mom and sisters, I never would have left for Pemberley if I thought you were in any danger!"

"Don't worry about it, Will. It all worked out in the end," I said. "But since I'm not in danger now, why are you here? Smoothing things over for your aunt?" I wasn't angry or upset. Just perplexed.

"What? What did my aunt do?"

"She paid me a visit... gave some lovely compliments... introduced me to her new rodent..." I searched his face, but he didn't seem to know anything about it. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. Did you bring the rest of my things back then? You didn't have to go through the trouble of bringing them yourself. My aunt could have brought them."

"No, they're still at Pemberley."

"Oh. I guess Meg and Ed will bring everything with them then."

He scratched the side of his head. "Maybe... you could leave your stuff there."

"Why?" I asked cautiously. As much as I hated to admit it, the things his aunt had said to me were still ringing in my ears. Not that I needed an offer of marriage to consent to a full relationship with him, but I wasn't about to be anyone's business on the side.

"Lizzie... does any part of you still feel the same way as you did at Rosings? Because, if you do, tell me now, and I will get back on my bike and go back to Pemberley and you will never have to see me again."

Never see him again? The thought of watching him ride away on his bike for a second time seemed almost unbearable. "No. No, I don't," I bit my at my lip, wishing I there was some more eloquent way of telling him how I felt. "I haven't felt that way for a long time and I don't want you to leave. I don't care what we are, or what we're not, I just want to be with you. Just with you."

"This," he said, opening up his clenched fingers, "This is why I left, and this is why I came back."

I looked down. There, nestled in the palm of his hand, a little circle of antique silver, intricately filigreed and set with one beautiful square-cut crystal.

"It was my mother's," he murmured, "I left it at Pemberley, and I went back for it." He laced the fingers on his free hand through mine. "Will you? Will you marry me?"

My voice caught in my throat. "But my family-"

"Is just as crazy and unreliable as everyone else's family. Lizzie, it doesn't matter. I love you. I have since... God, that second day at Netherfield. I feel like I've been going crazy since then. If you're with me, and I'm with you, and nothing else matters. Do you want to know why I didn't come back here right away?"

I scoffed a little, trying lighten the amorous mood that was increasingly threatening to overwhelm me, "Did Goldfinger catch up with you? Between the impeccable way you dress, your motorcycle, and your sleuthing skills in New London, you can't think your secret identity is still intact, Mr. Bond."

He chuckled but shook his head. "I asked your aunt to help me fix up one of the empty houses at the Pemberley complex. It's big enough for your parents and your sisters, if they want it. Well," he smiled, "more like if you them there."

There was nothing anyone could have given me that would have made me happier or made me feel so completely whole. He had given me everything. So I kissed him. And kissed him again, and he groaned as my hands clasped the back of his neck and pulled at his hair. I couldn't get close enough to him, and with his hands roaming all over me it seemed he couldn't either.

"Does this mean you're saying yes?" he asked, breathless and trying to still his wandering hands, "Because Caroline is asking if she can move in to the empty house, and if you don't marry me I can't tell her it's for my in-laws."

I laughed, "Yes, I'm saying yes!" I pressed my lips to his again and he made sounds of protest when I pulled away, "I love you and I wouldn't want horrible Caroline to be your neighbor."

He stopped to look me in the eyes, all playfulness evaporated. "Say it again," he said, low and gravelly.

"Caroline would be a terrible neighbor. She'd probably come asking for a cup of sugar at three in the morning wearing nothing but a thong and a-"

"No, not that. The other thing."

"I love you?"

"Yeah, that one."

I smiled. "Okay. I love you, Will Darcy."

And with that, he slid the ring on to my finger, held me close, and whispered "I love you" in my ear, over and over until it echoed in my head like a mantra even after he stopped speaking. And I would never doubt it again.


	17. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Something was tickling the side of my neck. I swatted at it, and my hand connected with something warm and face-like. Definitely a face.

"Oww! That's not a very nice way to thank your alarm clock for waking you up." Will's lips began their assault on my neck again, with even more determination.

"I think the clock is defective. I would _never_ set it to wake me up this early," I grumbled sleepily, burying my face into my pillow.

"No, this is a very important day, and you insisted that you wanted to get up early so you could enjoy it to it's fullest."

I opened one eye and Will's broad smile came in to focus. "I did, huh?"

"Yes, you did. Because four years ago today I asked you to marry me."

"Was it the time I said 'yes', or the time I said 'no'?" I quipped, trying to pull the pillow over my head as Will easily wrestled it out of my grasp and tossed it onto the floor with a smirk.

"Very funny. The time you said yes. And to celebrate, I wrote you a poem." He draped himself over my lap and cleared his throat, "_Your hair's as divine as a glass of mulled wine, and you sail the ocean of my deepest emotion. Your fine eyes offer no compromise, so I can't help but listen when your mouth is in motion_."

"Oh, no! Make it stop!" I laughed, reaching over to snatch the paper he was reading from out of his hands. He moved the paper deftly out of my reach while simultaneously pinning down both my hands with one of his, and planting a sensual kiss on my lips.

"Now where was I? Ah yes- _Your lips are pretty and sufficiently witty. I want your thighs all over my_-"

I wrenched my hands out of his grip, and put my nose an inch away from his. "Finish that sentence and you'll regret it, Mr. Darcy."

He grinned and dramatically threw the paper up in the air, wrapping his arms around me. "Why is that, Mrs. Darcy? Afraid my deep, soulful poetry will… what was that you said about Jane's poems? Put our marriage into a diabetic coma?"

"That's only if the couple isn't already in a blissfully happy and committed relationship. No, I have a much better reason for wanting you to end that poem," I raised my eyebrows and looked over at our bedroom door, Will following suit. One chubby little hand and two dark eyes peered out from behind it.

"Maryanna! How did you get out of your crib?"

Our daughter let out a bubbly laugh and ran over to the side of the bed Will and I were on. Will lifted her up on to the bed, and I pulled her close between us, rocking her and resting my chin on top of her dark hair.

"Besides, I believe you once said that poetry was the food of love," I said, pretending to bite Maryanna's fingers as they strayed close to my mouth, eliciting the giggle that I couldn't get enough of, "But since you are the best man I have ever known, your wonderful qualities feed our love far better than the best written poem ever could. Though I would really really really like an omelette right now."

Will crinkled his brow and looked at me suspiciously. "You hate eggs. You haven't touched them since you were preg-" he stopped short when he noticed I was smiling. "Really? You're…?"

"Yeah, really."

Will gave me an earth shattering grin and threw his arms around our daughter and I, and in that moment I knew that even if the world came crashing down around us, everything was going to be alright.

* * *

**End.**

* * *

**Bonus: (Because I'm a dork.)**

**Lizzie and Will's End of the World Playlist:**

1.) _Running for Cover_ \- Ivan &amp; Alyosha

2.) _Beginning Song_ \- The Decemberists

3.) _Where Is My Mind_ \- The Pixies

4.) _The Weight of Us_ \- Sanders Bohlke

5.) _Sights_ \- London Grammar

6.) _The Wrong Year_ \- The Decemberists

7.) _England Skies_ \- Shake Shake Go

8.) _Something Good Can Work_ \- Two Door Cinema Club

9.) _Second Chances_ \- Gregory Alan Isakov

10.) _Like Real People Do_ \- Hozier

11.) _Don't Go Slow_ \- Benjamin Francis Leftwich

12.) _Stones Around the Sun_ \- Lewis Watson

13.) _Big Black Car_ \- Gregory Alan Isakov

* * *

A/N: I had so much fun writing this while I was supposed to be doing grown up things. Ah well, back to the real world. I'll probably come back to this at some point to add bits and polish it up. But thanks for being awesome readers and allowing me to get this silly little story out of my head.


End file.
